All the Gold in California
by Pearlkat
Summary: Summary: Spock and Chapel are kidnapped by a mad Klingon who plans to change Earth's past and the Empire's future. Stranded in 1840's California Territory, they struggle to survive and keep Spock's alien identity a secret. Can Kirk and McCoy rescue them and save the timeline before the Klingons wreak havoc with history?
1. Chapter 1

**All the Gold in California**

Summary: Spock and Chapel are kidnapped by a mad Klingon who plans to change Earth's past and the Empire's future. Stranded in 1840's California Territory, they struggle to survive and keep Spock's alien identity a secret. Can Kirk and McCoy rescue them and save the timeline before the Klingons wreak havoc with history?

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, but the characters like to romp and frolic in my mind, and tell me wonderful stories. **SPOCK: ****_Vulcans do_****_not_****_romp and frolic!_**

**A/N: I had to do some research on this one. Many thanks to my favorite website, Wikipedia. Oops, make that my second favorite, after FanFiction of course!**

**Chapter 1**

Christine landed on her backside with an "oomph" and coughed as a cloud of dust rose around her. She cursed the inept Klingon who had let her materialize a foot above the ground. Waving the dust away from her face, she gazed at the landscape before her. Dirt, rocks, and scrub brush as far as she could see. And in the distance, craggy ridges and snowcapped mountains. _Great_, she thought, _where in this great galaxy are we? We!_ She looked around desperately for her companion of the last few days and found Spock lying face down in the dirt behind her, apparently still unconscious. She gasped when she realized he was dressed in heavy canvas pants, a flannel shirt, a woolen jacket, and tall leather boots. A dark brown, wide-brimmed hat was lying on the ground beside him. Then she noticed her own clothes; an ankle-length, green and white gingham dress with white cuffs and a lacey bib that came up to her neck. She flicked up the hem of the skirt, and the heavy petticoats underneath, and found what she knew were affectionately called "granny boots" on her feet. "Oh, my…!" she started, and profaned whatever Klingon had dressed her in these ridiculous clothes while she was out cold.

A groan from behind alerted her to her companion regaining consciousness. She crawled over to Spock and rolled him onto his back, just as his eyes began to flicker open. When he could focus his vision, he said, "Who are you?" and after hastily looking around, added, "Where am I?"

"Spock, it's me, Christine… Dr. Chapel," she answered.

"What did you just call me?" he asked, confusion evident on his still-scarred face.

"What? Don't you… Oh, no, don't tell me…What's the last thing you remember, Spock?"

The Vulcan blinked several times as he turned his thoughts inward, then said, "I remember nothing."

**Four Days Earlier**

Commander Spock, Dr. Chapel, two anthropologists and two security guards had beamed down to the surface of Xeron Beta III to observe a native village in the valley below them. The _Enterprise_ was in orbit, her Captain deep in discussion with Star Fleet Command about mining rights on this unclaimed planet. There were a few pockets of indigenous people on only one small continent, and a cornucopia of minerals on the other side of the planet.

The anthropologists were focused on the village below with their high-powered recording binoculars as the security guards kept watch over them. Dr. Chapel wandered through the dense foliage, her scanner sweeping, always on the look-out for medicinal plants. Spock watched her surreptitiously while taking readings of their surroundings on his tricorder. He was content to let her wander, as long as she stayed within visual range.

A few moments later, he heard her calling his name quietly and looked up to see her beckoning for him to come to her. She was crouched in front of a thicket of bushes, about fifty meters away, peering between the leafy branches. As he started toward her, he saw her body stiffen, then topple over. "Doctor Chapel," he called out and broke into a run. Before he reached her, he felt a sting on the back of his neck. A second later he sensed the loss of control of his legs and felt himself falling forward. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Christine woke up to find herself lying on a small cot. A matching cot just a few feet to her left looked as though someone has recently laid on it as well. She sat up carefully and found the rest of the small room to be devoid of any furnishings or another person. In the wall opposite her, she could see another room through an open doorway. She approached the doorway and sensed the tingle of a force field before she could even put her hand out to test it. So, she was a prisoner. It was then that she felt the tale-tell vibrations of a ship in motion. She moved beside the door to see what, if anything, was in the other room. There was small table and two chairs to one side, and in one of the chairs sat a stereotypical Klingon warrior, reading from a data pad. _Klingons! Great!_ she thought. She made her way back to the cot and sat down just as footsteps approached the outer room.

She heard the Klingons speaking in their guttural language and saw a disruptor aimed at her as the force field was turned off and Commander Spock was thrust into the cell. He landed in a heap on the floor and reflexively curled himself up into a fetal position. She ran to him and knelt down to examine him. There were multiple bruises and lacerations on his face, along with dried green blood. His uniform was spattered with it as well. "See to him, Healer," one of the Klingons declared in Standard English, and tossed something next to her. Christine looked down to see her Star Fleet Med-kit skid to a stop beside her.

"I'll need water and a cloth," she said without looking up. One of the guards spoke to another, who rushed out and returned a moment later with a pitcher of water, a bowl, and a clean towel. He entered the cell and set them down beside her without a word. Chapel wondered briefly why they were actually helping her, before returning to her patient. She wiped the blood from his face and ran over the lacerations with a regenerator. The bruises faded slightly and the cuts began sealing themselves. She pressed a hypo of antibiotic into his neck. It was all she could do with her small kit. He wouldn't be pretty for a few days, but at least he would be free from infection.

Spock moaned softly as she finished, and his eyes fluttered open. She helped him get to his feet and led him to the cot that had obviously been his. "Spock, what did they do to you?" she asked quietly, helping him to lie down.

"Mind-sifter," was his only reply before he passed out once again.

An hour or so later, Mr. Spock sat cross-legged on his cot, trying to find his center again - and failing miserably - while Chapel paced nervously, biting her tongue to keep from questioning her commanding officer. A noise at the door brought both of them to alertness. The force field was turned off and a different sort of Klingon strode boldly into the room, chuckling to himself. He was smaller than the guards, but tall and thin, like Spock. He wore a fine suit of wool-like material with no armor and no metal studs. He carried no visible weapons, but sported a large ruby ring on one finger. His long black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and his beard was elegantly trimmed. But his bifurcated brow gave him away as at least part Klingon. Spock was now standing beside Christine as they watched the newcomer strut around them.

"Well, Doctor, I see you've patched up our Vulcan's face quite well," he said in perfect Standard English. His voice carried no trace of accent. "Of course, we'll only mess it up again," he continued, then finished with a grimace, "unless he tells me what I want to know!"

Spock took a step forward and asserted, "If it's me you want, then let Doctor Chapel go."

"Oh, no, Commander, I need her. If for nothing else than to keep you alive." He looked appraising at Chapel before continuing. "And I think she'll come in handy as what your people would call a 'bargaining chip.' As in, "If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll kill her while you watch!"" he finished menacingly.

"Don't tell him anything, Spock!" Chapel warned.

Spock stepped in front of her protectively, and asked, "What is it you wish to know?"

The man wagged a finger in front the Vulcan's nose, making a clucking noise with his tongue against his teeth. "No, no, no, Commander. It's much more _entertaining _ to get it out of you the other way." With that he turned to leave the cell.

"What have you done with the other members of our landing party?" Spock demanded.

The man turned and gave them a wicked grin. "What have _I_ done with them? It was not _I_ who captured you, Commander Spock. It was the natives of the planet. Though I did pay them dearly for their assistance. And part of the payment was that they could keep the others for their own… amusement." He laughed heartily as he exited the cell. "Feed them!" he ordered one of the guards. "And don't forget, Vulcans are vegetarians!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Uhura swiveled her chair to face the Captain. "Sir, the landing party hasn't checked in and I can't raise them!"

Captain Kirk resisted the urge to press the comm button on his chair arm and try to contact them himself. Uhura knew her stuff. Instead he turned to Lt. Eddings at the Science station. "Lieutenant, scan the planet for Human and Vulcan life signs."

Before the substitute Science Officer could reply, the proximity alarm sounded and Sulu shouted, "Captain, Klingon battle cruiser de-cloaking off the starboard bow!"

"Shields up, Mr. Sulu! Red Alert! Uhura, sound battle stations!" The ship rocked as a torpedo exploded just above the ship, the _Enterprise's _shields protecting her from the blast. It had been meant as a warning shot, and Captain Kirk readily accepted the warning. "Evasive, Mr. Sulu. Chekov, target all weapons on that ship and fire phasers when ready."

"Aye, Keptin. Firing phasers, now!" replied the weapons officer, as the helmsman drove the ship under the battle cruiser. Twin lances of light extended, glancing harmlessly off the Klingon ship's shields. "No damage," declared Chekov. "Torpedoes ready, Keptin."

"Hold on, Mr. Chekov," the Captain started, his hand reaching out toward the weapons officer as if to physically stop him.

"Captain," interrupted Lt. Eddings, "There's a smaller ship just behind the battle cruiser. It's activating transporters." A moment later there was a flash of light and the little ship was gone. "She's gone to warp, Sir."

"Uhura, hail the Klingon Captain," Kirk ordered. But as he said it, the ship turned and faded from view.

"Captain," announced Mr. Sulu, "I'm picking up a warp signature."

Kirk rubbed his hand across his eyes. "What the heck was that all about?"

Chekov added, "They are gone, Keptin. I believe ve are alone again.

"Are we?" the Captain asked. "Mr. Sulu, take us back to the planet, resume orbit. "Eddings," he turned to the Science station, "what about those scans?"

"Scanning now, Sir," came the reply. "I'm picking up four Human life signs, but no Vulcan."

Kirk pondered a moment. _Could he be on that small ship? Wait, four? There should be five Humans._ He slammed his hand down on the comm button. "Kirk to Transporter Room."

"Transporter Room, Kyle here, Sir,_"_

"Mr. Kyle, we're picking up four Human life signs on the planet below. Lock onto them and beam them up immediately. I'm on my way. Kirk out. Sulu, you have the con."

_"_I have a lock on them, Sir, energizing now,_"_ announced Lt. Kyle. But the Captain was moving. On his way to the turbo-lift, Kirk told Uhura to get a medical team to the transporter room.

"What in blue blazes happened this time?" Kirk heard McCoy ranting as the doctor met him at the transporter room door. They entered the room just as Lt. Kyle completed the transport. The anthropologists and the security team sank to floor as medical personnel swarmed around them. They had obviously been severely beaten and probably had internal injuries as well.

As McCoy ran his medical scanner over the nearest one, Captain Kirk asked the man, "What happened to Spock and Chapel? Report, Commander."

The Security Officer attempted to stand at attention as he replied. "Sir, we never saw them coming. They subdued us with tranquilizer darts, or something. When we woke up, we were in the native camp, surrounded by Klingons. Commander Spock and Doctor Chapel were taken away by a really odd looking Klingon in civilian clothes. They beamed out. I'm sorry, Sir. I don't know where they are," he apologized, collapsing again as his strength waned.

Kirk went to the transporter console and called the Bridge. "Sulu, find the trail of that small ship and follow it. Kirk out."

The Captain returned to the Bridge once the rescued landing party was safely in Sickbay, and ordered a status report from his helmsman. "We're following the ion trail from the small ship, Captain," Sulu reported. "Sir, if she maintains her current course, she's headed right for Earth."

"Earth!" the Captain sputtered. "Don't they know that's a treaty violation? Keep on them, Mr. Sulu. Increase our speed, and keep on them."

oooooOOOOOooooo

After their meal, Spock and Chapel sat facing each other on their small cots. "What do you think they want?" Christine asked.

Spock sighed before answering. "I hesitate to even speculate, Christine." She smiled at his use of her first name, a sign that he was more affected by their ordeal than he tried to project. They had become friends after the V'ger incident, and she no longer thought of him as a paramour to be conquered, but as the compassionate, insightful, loyal officer she now knew him to be. He stretched out on the cot and steepled his hands in front of his face. "I need to meditate. Perhaps you should try to get some sleep, Doctor," he said, focusing on the point of his index fingers. Christine lay down and turned her back to him, willing herself to close her eyes and sleep.

She awoke to the sound of boot steps on the metal floor and turned to see their Klingon captors pulling Spock roughly off his cot. They pushed him toward the door, a disruptor pressed into his back. She knew it was pointless to protest, or even let them know she was awake, so she clutched her Med-kit and waited as patiently as she could for his return.

This "game" was repeated several times over what seemed like a couple of days. Each time, Spock was thrown back into the room, his face bloody and his body bruised. Christine would clean him up and repair what damage she could, then get him back to his cot, where he trembled and murmured until he passed out again. The guards fed them well, and provided for their other needs. They were allowed the use a small bathroom across the hall, and given a deck of Terran-style playing cards – who knew how they had acquired them. Christine kept herself occupied by playing Solitaire while Spock attempted to meditate.

When the guards came for what would be their last visit to the tiny prison cell, Spock was barely able to walk out between them under his own power. He had been beaten many times and had not had the time, or the energy, to heal himself. Christine could only pray that he'd return alive.

This time the Vulcan was escorted to an elaborately decorated office instead of to what he had begun calling 'the torture chamber.' Seated behind a large wooden desk was the unusual Klingon they had encountered on their first day of captivity.

"Ah, Commander Spock, welcome to my office!" the Klingon greeted, spreading his arms magnanimously. "Please have a seat." The guards shoved Spock roughly into the overstuffed chair across the desk from their leader. "I do hope my men haven't been too harsh with you. Can I offer you anything Commander?" he offered with an insincere smile. Spock only glared at him, barely controlling his anger. "No?" his host asked. "Well then, let's get down to business, shall we?

"First, I should introduce myself. My name is K'lahD, and I am what you might call an entrepreneur. And let me say, it is _quite_ an honor to have a scientist such as yourself in my service. You reputation precedes you, Mr. Spock." Spock kept silent and outwardly calm, but inside he was seething at the audacity of the pompous Klingon. K'lahD waved his hand, dismissing Spock's silence. "I'm sure you're asking yourself, 'What does he want with me?'" A dark eye brow rose slightly on the face opposite him, as if in agreement of the question. "I'll tell you what I want, Mr. Spock," the Klingon leaned forward as he continued, "I want your secret to time travel."

In a perfectly controlled voice, Spock replied, "The Vulcan Science Directorate has determined that time travel is impossible.1"

K'lahD laughed. "Oh come now, Mr. Spock! You and I both know that isn't true. Why, you've done it yourself a number of times." He leaned forward again and eyed Spock with crazed delight. "Tell me how to take my ship back in time."

"And why would I do that, Sir?"

"Because if you don't, I will simply kill Doctor Chapel." With that he pressed a button on his desk causing a view screen on a side wall to flicker to life. He heard a sharp intake of breath when the Vulcan saw his companion with a disruptor aimed at her head, terror evident in her eyes.

Spock admitted to himself that he had strong feelings for this woman, though he couldn't identify them. She was certainly a crewmate as well as a friend, and he had no wish to see her life end in this way, but to give in to his captor and allow him access to the past was unthinkable. He blinked slowly then turned his focus back to the Klingon. "I will not," he stated emphatically.

"Very well," his host intoned. He pressed the same button, shutting off the view screen. "You leave me no choice, Mr. Spock." Turning to a door behind him, he shouted, "Turek!"

Spock had never actually seen one of the rare, dark-skinned residents of his home-world. The man that came through the door was one such; taller and heavier than Spock, well-muscled and broadcasting an air of malevolence. Spock realized he must also be one of the _v'tash ka'tur_, those who refuse the teachings of Surak, and instantly reinforced his mental shields blocking out any emotions he might be broadcasting.

K'lahD motioned to the two guards still standing behind his captive. "Take him!" Turning to Turek, he said, "You know what to do." The dark Vulcan nodded and followed them out.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Captain James T. Kirk moaned in his sleep as Edith Keeler shouted something to him. He had put off going to bed as long as he could, but as usual, Dr. McCoy had insisted there was nothing he could do that wouldn't wait until he'd had at least four hours of sleep. But to dream of her now. Why? He hadn't dreamt of her for years. His arms flailed wildly, tangling in his bed clothes as he watched her start across the street. "NO!" he yelled, sitting up in his bed, suddenly wide awake. After getting his breathing and heart beat back under control, he lay back down and fell promptly asleep again.

The dream returned immediately, and this time he could hear Edith calling to him, _"Captain Kirk, history has been altered! Only you can repair it! Come to me and I will guide you!"_ She started across the street, the truck rounded the corner, and again Kirk woke abruptly, gasping for breath. He could still hear Edith's words …only they weren't her words. She had never said those words!

The Captain of the _Enterprise_ pushed his covers back and sat on the edge of his bed. He rubbed both hands over his eyes, then through his tousled hair. He exhaled forcefully through his nose and rose to his feet. Padding silently into his bathroom, he retrieved and swallowed one of the little blue pills the CMO had given him specifically for the nights his nightmares plagued him. Returning to his bed, he crawled under the covers, turned on his stomach, gathered up his pillow, and forced his eyes closed.

Within a few minutes the nightmare returned once again. He could hear the urgency in Edith's voice; see the panic in her eyes. He heard the squeal of rubber tires as the truck rounded the corner, and then, to his amazement, it passed by as Edith stepped onto the curb beside him. _"You must hurry, Captain Kirk," _said Edith in her slightly accented voice,_ "the timeline must be made right."_

Kirk awoke, confused. Why would this twentieth-century woman appear in his dreams and tell him the 'timeline must be made right'?" He stood and paced in front of the bed, then pulled on his robe and sat down at his desk. He sat still, elbows on his desk, head in his hands, for a full five minutes before he reached for the comm button. "Kirk to McCoy," he said without raising his head.

"_Wha-at?_" came the muffled and affronted reply.

"Bones, I need you. Now."

"On my way, Captain," he heard as he released the button. A moment later the door to his cabin whooshed open and the doctor was hovering over him, med-scanner humming. Finding only high stress levels, McCoy sat down in the chair opposite his friend, pulling his bathrobe closed around him. "What is it, Jim?" he asked his voice full of concern and affection for this man.

Jim Kirk lowered his hands and looked his friend square in the eyes. "I dreamed about her," he stated, then released ragged sigh.

"Her?" McCoy asked. "Oh, _Her_. I thought you were over those nightmares, Jim.

"I thought I was, too. But this was…different." He ran his hand through his rumpled hair before relating his dreams to the Doctor.

"Huh…What do you think she meant by _history has been altered_?

The Captain was silent a moment, head hanging. His head snapped up, eyes wide. "Bones, I think it's a warning…a …a…message of some sort…from the Guardian!"

"The what? The _Guardian_? What…?" The Doctor's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"I know you remember Edith," Kirk started. McCoy indicated that he did remember. "After she…" he swallowed the lump threatening to form in his throat, "we came back through the Guardian. It's a big rock circle with a hole in the middle, like a donut," he put his hands together to form a ring. "It's a portal through time.

McCoy nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I remember. And you think this thing is trying to contact you?"

"I'm sure of it, Bones. Something has happened to alter Earth's history and it wants me to come fix it."

"I don't get it, Jim. If Earth's history has been altered, why are we still here? We are still on the _Enterprise_, aren't we?

"I don't know, Bones. I don't understand it myself. I wish Spock was here."

"Yeah, that walking computer would have this figured out in no time."

"That's it, Bones! Spock is somehow involved in this. The Guardian is calling _me_ because I was there with _Spock_. It knows us both. It knows you, too. We were all there; we all went through the portal. Hang on a minute," he punched the comm button on the desk and addressed the computer. "Computer, this is Captain James T. Kirk. Report current ship's status."

"_The_ USS Enterprise _is currently docked at Starbase 12 undergoing repairs to the hull, port nacelle, and port plasma cannons_," replied the mechanical voice.

"Repairs?" said Kirk.

"Plasma cannons?" said McCoy.

"Computer, why is Enterprise undergoing these repairs?" the Captain asked.

"_A series of direct hits was sustained to the port side during the battle with the Klingon swarm ship _Mek'leth_ three days ago_." The Captain and the Doctor locked eyes in complete surprise.

"Klingon _swarm_ ship?" pondered Kirk.

"Were there any casualties?" asked McCoy.

_"Thirty-six dead and twenty-two wounded. All casualties have been transported to Starbase 12 for treatment."_

"Good Lord!" uttered the Doctor. "Jim, are we at war with the Klingons?

Captain Kirk was stunned by the computer's report. _Thirty-six dead. __**Are**__ we at war?_ "I think so, Bones." He tried to sort it out in his head. "Sulu's acting First Officer. We need his input. Computer, what is Commander Sulu's current location?"

"_There is no one on board by that name_," replied the computer.

"What?" Kirk demanded.

"Jim," McCoy warned, eerily.

Kirk continued to address the computer. "Display crew manifest, senior officers only." He swiveled the monitor so the Doctor could see it as the screen filled with a list of names.

McCoy began reading aloud. "Captain, James T. Kirk. First Officer, Commander Paul H. McHenry. Science Officer, Lieutenant Commander Theliss V'ras, isn't that an Andorian name? Chief Helmsman, Lieutenant Anita C. Ramirez. Jim, I don't know any of these people!"

"Me either." Kirk indicated the next two names on the screen with a forefinger. "At least Scotty and Uhura are still here. Wait a minute; they beamed down to the Guardian with me and Spock. Maybe they remember what we do."

"Wait," started McCoy, "somthin's not right." He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, mumbled to himself and gestured with his hands before continuing. "If there's no Sulu, then who was I tryin' to inject with cordrazine that day? If it wasn't for that incident, we would never have gone through the portal in the first place.

"I don't know, Bones." _Captain Kirk, history has been altered!_ "We need help." He reached for the comm button again. "I'm calling Scotty."

"No, don't. Make it Uhura instead. If we just came through a battle and are in the middle of repairs, Scotty's gotta be exhausted," stipulated McCoy, ever the caring doctor.

"You're right, Bones." He pressed the comm button. "Kirk to Commander Uhura."

"Uhura here," came a sleepy reply. "What is it, Captain?"

"Uhura, I need to see you in my quarters right away. Just put on a robe or something, it won't take long."

"Yes, Sir. I'll be right there." In less than five minutes Kirk's door chime sounded and he admitted his Chief Communications Officer. McCoy rose and offered her his chair.

"Uhura," Kirk started. "Do you remember, about eight years ago, beaming down with me and Scotty and Spock…"

Uhura cut him off, "Captain, I wasn't even on this ship eight years ago."

Stunned silence filled the room. Kirk put a hand to his left temple, feeling a headache the size of a star system approaching fast. "Okay, let's try something else. Do you know what happened to Commander Spock?

"Spock? No, Sir. I don't know anyone by that name. It sounds Vulcan."

"Yes. Yes it is Vulcan. He's my First Officer."

"Captain, Paul McHenry has been First Officer since I've been here. And the Vulcans were annihilated by the Klingons over fifty years ago. Are you all right, Sir?"

Kirk closed his eyes and massaged both temples. _Make that the size of an entire galaxy_, he thought. "I'm not sure yet," he answered. "I've been having some strange dreams. That'll be all, Commander. I'm sorry I woke you," he dismissed her. _Captain Kirk, history has been altered!_

After the door closed behind Uhura, Kirk dropped his head to his arms on the desk and muttered, "So they don't remember."

"They didn't go through the portal," McCoy voiced.

Straightening and stretching his neck, Kirk uttered a sound of agonized defeat. "I wish Spock was here!" he said, mournfully. He met his friend's eyes and declared, "Bones, we have to go to the Guardian and get him back. Somehow. But I need help."

"Trust your First Officer, Jim," the Doctor suggested. He got a Spockian eyebrow in response. "You're a Starship Captain. You _have_ to trust your First Officer. Tell him the truth, and _trust_ him."

More silence and more temple massaging. "You're right, Bones." He punched the comm button one more time and ordered the computer to leave a message for Mr. McHenry to meet him in his office at 0800. "You'll be here, too," he said looking back at McCoy, who wasn't sure if it was a question or an order.

"Yeah, sure thing. In the meantime, let's see if we can get some sleep."

**1. A statement made several times by T'Pol in the series ****_Enterprise_****.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for all the WONDERFUL feedback. I'm so happy you like my little tale. Keep 'em coming! Another shout out to ****_Enterprise_**** in this chapter. See if you can find it!**

**A/N: It seems FanFiction doesn't like web links. They were omitted in the notes at the end of the story. They have now been inserted (sort of).**

**Chapter 3**

Christine stood up and brushed the dust off her clothes. She picked up the yellow bonnet that fell to the ground. Spock also stood, somewhat stiffly, and followed her example. "I hear something," he stated.

"What is it?" Christine couldn't hear anything, but she knew how sensitive Vulcan hearing was.

Spock looked at her with one eye brow raised. "Since I have no memories, I have no reference with which to compare the sound. Therefore, I cannot identify it."

"You may have no memories, but you're still a Vulcan!" Christine mumbled to herself.

"What was that?" her companion asked her.

"Never mind."

"You indicated that I am 'still a Vulcan.' What does that mean?"

She could hear the sound now. "I'll explain it later. Right now there's a wagon coming." Christine had seen enough old Western holo-vids to recognize the sound of a horse-drawn wagon when she heard one. "We have to make up an excuse for why we're here. Just follow my lead." She glanced at him, and gasped, realizing they had a problem. "Put your hat on. And keep it on!" she instructed. He reached for his hat and fumbled with it, unfamiliar with which way it went, then arranging the pointed part in the front, put it on his head. It neatly covered the tips of his ears and concealed his angled eye brows. Christine quickly arranged her hair on top of her head and covered it with the bonnet, tying the strings under her chin, just as the wagon came into view.

She waved as the buckboard neared them. A middle-aged couple was sitting on the bench seat, the woman holding a small child in her lap. "Howdy, folks!" the driver called as he halted his team of horses. The driver looked around then back at her. "What brings you folks out in the middle of nowhere?"

Christine was relieved they spoke English. "Hello," she started. "My name is Christine Chapel and this is," she indicated her companion, "…my husband, … Spock. We were travelling when some…uh, bandits stole our wagon and all our belongings. So we started walking. How far is it to the nearest town?"

"Not far," replied the driver. "Hop on and we'll get you there in no time," he nodded toward the back of the wagon. "My names Amos Archer and this here's my wife Jennifer, and our baby girl Suzanne."

_Archer, huh? What a coincidence_, thought Christine. "Thank you very much. What is the nearest town? We've been travelling so long, I'm not sure where we are anymore."

"Well, it ain't a town, 'xactly, more of what you might call a settlement," Archer answered. "Sutter's Fort1, it's called. In the territory of California."

_Whew, California! At least we're on Earth_. "You wouldn't by any chance know the date, would you? Like I said, we've been out here awhile, and I've totally lost track of time."

"It's January fifteenth, eighteen forty-seven," said Jennifer Archer proudly. "Today is Suzanne's birthday, isn't it honey?" She bounced the little girl and kissed the top of her blonde head. "She's two years old today."

"Happy birthday, Suzanne," Christine offered. "Thanks again for the lift, Mr. Archer." She started for the back of the buckboard, "Come on, Spock." He seemed rooted to the spot so she pulled on his arm to get him moving.

"Something wrong with your man, Missy?" asked Archer, turning to watch them.

"Why do you ask?" Suddenly alarmed, Christine glanced at Spock to make sure his hat still covered his features.

"Well, he ain't said a word," Jennifer stated.

"Oh," Christine replied with relief. "He got hit on the head when the bandits took our wagon. He doesn't remember a thing!" She elbowed Spock, who obediently shook his head from side to side.

Archer and his wife looked at each other. "Must'a been some of them Mexican banditos that roam these parts," he declared as Spock and Christine climbed aboard and found a seat among the supplies piled there.

"They did not indicate where they were from," Spock added helpfully, which elicited curious glances from the Archers and another elbow in the ribs from Christine.

A brown and white dog came from between two boxes and began sniffing at them, tail wagging excitedly. "Leave 'em alone, Faust," Archer ordered the canine. "Sorry folks," he apologized to his passengers. "That's our dog. He won't hurt you."

Christine patted the dog's head. "Faust is certainly an interesting name for a beagle," she commented.

Archer replied, "My family's been raising beagles for years. We always name 'em after characters from lit'rature." He turned toward the front and shook the reigns, urging his horses forward. The wagon lurched and Spock and Christine held on for dear life as it bumped over the uneven ground. The Vulcan wisely kept his mouth shut the entire trip as Christine chatted companionably with the couple, learning more about the area and their destination, Sutter's Fort.

They caught their first glimpse of Sutter's Fort as they approached a bridge over what Archer told them was the Sacramento River. The high stone walls made it look cold and imposing. In contrast, dozens of canvas tent-houses were set up in long rows between them and the fort. Women washed and hung clothes to dry, children ran and played, dogs barked and a variety of farm animals called out. When the wagon passed through the massive wooden gates, Christine was amazed to see men and women going about their business. It seemed as though a small town flourished within the walls. On the South wall were blacksmith, carpentry and gunsmith shops, and on the North were a cooper's shop and a general store. A three-story building occupied the center of the grounds, and next to it stood a bee-hive shaped structure that Christine remembered was called a _horno_, a type of outdoor oven.2 Archer stopped the wagon in front of the large building and took them inside to meet John Sutter. They had already discussed Mr. Sutter's hospitality toward travelers and Archer assured Christine that they would be welcomed and provided for until they could make their own way.

John Sutter did not disappoint. After Christine told him her made-up story about bandits stealing their wagon and her husband losing his memory, they were shown to a pleasant room in a building on the North wall kept for visitors. "Well, Mrs. Chapel," Mr. Sutter addressed Christine after she thanked him for his generosity. His accented voice was beautiful to listen to, and she recognized him as coming from somewhere in Europe. "We'll have to see about getting you and your husband some employment. Do either of you have any skills?"

_Um, how to put this, she thought_. "My husband is very good with mathematics, at least he was, and he's very strong. And I have some experience caring for the sick and wounded."

"Good, good," replied Sutter, "that should help out in the future. Mr. Chapel, you can help out in the blacksmith shop for now. There's a good deal of work there getting all the tools ready for the next growing season." Christine winced at their host calling Spock 'Mr. Chapel,' but there was nothing to be done about it. And Spock didn't seem to mind. In fact, he nodded and listened carefully as Sutter told him where to go and who to see in the morning. Sutter turned back to Christine. "Now then, Mrs. Chapel, do you read and write?"

"Oh, yes, Sir. We both do."

"Good. Have you ever taken an inventory?"

She smiled warmly. "Yes, Sir. Many times."

"Excellent. I'd like you to inventory my warehouse. It will most likely take you a few days. For this afternoon, your husband can assist you with some of the heavier items. I'll get you a pencil and some paper. "They had started out the door when Sutter turned and asked, "Have you eaten today?"

"No, Sir. As a matter of fact we haven't," said Christine.

"I do apologize. I should have thought of that earlier." Their host led them past the central building to a kitchen on the West wall. The aroma of freshly baked bread greeted them. Sutter ushered them in and spoke to the women inside. "Please see that my guests get something to eat, ladies." To Christine he said, "Inventory can wait a while longer. Come see me when you've eaten."

"Thank you, very much, Mr. Sutter," Christine gushed. "I promise we'll pay you back for everything." Sutter nodded and left them in the care of the kitchen staff.

One of the women showed them to a small table in a corner. She explained that there was no meat available right now, since it was still cooking for the evening meal, but they did have eggs and fried potatoes left over. "Eggs and potatoes would be wonderful," Christine told her. "And some of that delicious bread I smell, too, please." The woman smiled and turned to prepare their plates.

"Well, Spock, you haven't said much. Are you okay?" she asked her companion.

"I am finding it difficult to function with no memory of who I am or where we are. But I have the impression that we are not where we are supposed to be. It is my perception that this place is as foreign to you as it is to me."

"You're right, it is. We're about four centuries out of place." He quirked and eye brow at her. "And I have no idea how we got here. But we are on Earth, my home planet, and I do remember some of my history. Sutter's Fort sounds vaguely familiar, yet somehow not quite right. I've been trying to remember what it is…but I can't put my finger on it."

"I fail to understand how you can 'put your finger' on a memory, Christine." The raised eye brow lowered and bunched with the other in obvious confusion.

"It's just a figure of speech, Spock." They were interrupted by the woman setting their plates in front of them.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Commander Paul McHenry stood outside the Captain's office wondering what he could possibly have done wrong. It just wasn't like Kirk to call a meeting like this so early in the morning. He stood at attention as he pressed the buzzer. The door opened and he saw both his Captain and the CMO waiting for him.

He strode in and stood at attention in front of the desk. "Commander Paul McHenry reporting as ordered, Sir."

"Thank you, Mr. McHenry. Have a seat." The Captain indicated the empty chair beside Dr. McCoy, then poured a cup of coffee from a carafe and slid it across as the officer settled in. McHenry said thanks, and took a sip of the brew, keeping his narrowed eyes on the Captain's face. "Is there something wrong, Commander?" Kirk asked.

"No, Sir. It's just…, your scar, Sir."

"My scar?" Kirk repeated.

"Yes, Sir. The scar on your left cheek. The one you said you wore as a trophy for ridding the universe once and for all of Kang. It's…gone!"

Kirk unconsciously rubbed his left cheek and met his CMO's eyes. "That's… what I wanted to talk to you about, Commander," he stated hesitantly. "I asked Doctor McCoy to meet with us this morning since this involves him as well. I…uh… you're going to find this hard to believe, but we… that is Doctor McCoy and myself…we don't…belong here."

McHenry's eyes widened in confusion. "Sir?"

Kirk took a deep breath before continuing. "We're from a different… a parallel universe." McCoy shot him a look that said, _What are you doing?_ He answered with one that said, _Play along with me on this. _"Y'see, the way we figure it, sometime during the night, our two ships occupied the same… point in the… space-time continuum," Here the Captain gestured with one hand moving on top of the other, "and we were somehow switched."

"I guess that's possible," said McHenry with a shrug. McCoy rolled his eyes at his Captain.

"Anything's possible out here, Commander," Kirk agreed. "And the thing is…, we have to get back to our own ship…our own universe…because my First Officer is missing and we have to find him."

"I take it, in your universe, your First Officer isn't me, Sir."

"No, he isn't. He's a Vulcan, and he's my friend."

McHenry sat back in his chair. "Wow, a Vulcan! I've heard about them. So, in your universe the Klingons didn't kill them all?

Kirk gave him his lopsided grin. "No, in fact, we're not even at war with the Klingons." McHenry looked stunned. "We're not at peace either, I'm afraid. But we do have a treaty that both sides respect. Somewhat. In our universe, the _Enterprise's_ mission is one of exploration. Seeking new worlds and new civilizations and all that."

"Sounds dull," stated McHenry.

"No, it's never dull," put in Doctor McCoy. "I can vouch for that."

The First Officer sat still a moment, before meeting his Captain's eyes. Rather his Captain's doppelganger's eyes. "Why tell me all this, Captain? What can we do about it?"

"I'm glad you asked…Paul." McHenry showed no surprise at being called by his first name. That reassured Kirk for some reason. "See, I'm and explorer, not a battle commander. I don't know much about war and battling Klingons." Another eye roll from the Doctor as Kirk turned on his diplomatic charm. "You need to get your Captain back, and I need to find my missing crewman."

McHenry nodded once. "And how do we do that, Sir?"

Kirk glanced at McCoy before diving into his improvised explanation. McCoy raised an eyebrow in imitation of their favorite Vulcan. "Well …there's this planet… that's home to a… device… that is a sort of…portal between dimensions." He noticed that the First Officer was hanging on every word, so he kept going. "It's totally top-secret of course. Only a few people know about it." McHenry nodded eagerly. "So, we need to go to this…planet and…use the device to…switch us back to our own…universes."

"Okay, you want to use the ship to get to this planet so this device can put you and our Captain back in the right places?" McHenry ventured.

"Right. And both Doctor McCoys." _Oh boy, two of them!_ "That's where you come in. I need the crew to accept me as Captain of _this_ ship and follow _my_ orders. I need _you_ to back me up. You'll be the only one who knows any different. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir." McHenry sat as if at attention, awaiting further orders. "Where is this planet, Sir?"

Kirk swallowed hard. "I memorized the coordinates a long time ago, Commander. I'll give them when we're ready. First, I need to know when we can leave. I understand were undergoing repairs."

"Yes, Sir. Repairs are complete; we're just waiting for crew replacements. We're scheduled depart at 0900 hours."

Kirk and McCoy both glanced at the chronometer on the desk. "That's in just a few minutes, then. You go take care of the new crew members, and I'll meet you on the bridge."

"Yes, Sir," snapped the First Officer, standing. "Sir…"

"What is it, Commander?"

"The scar, Sir," he said pointing at Kirk's left cheek. "The crew'd be more inclined to believe you if you had a scar. Sir"

"I can take care of that," said McCoy, also standing. "We'll find a photo of your Captain, and after thirty minutes or so in surgery, nobody will know the difference."

McHenry left the office and the Doctor whirled on his friend, exasperation evident. "Jim, what was all that about a parallel universe? Why didn't you tell him the truth?"

"All right, Doctor." Kirk conceded, looking up at McCoy. "Suppose I just told you that I'm from an altered timeline and I intend to do everything in my power to restore it. And by the way, in my reality you don't exist!"

McCoy rubbed his chin with the back of his hand. "I see your point."

"This way, he's willingly helping me in order to restore his own reality." Again the lopsided smile appeared, and the hazel eyes sparkled mischievously as Kirk stood. "Shall we go to Sickbay, Doctor?"

"Yeah. Oh, by the way, I checked, and there's no Christine Chapel on board either. I hope she's all right."

"She will be, Bones. We have to trust Spock to keep her safe."

An hour later, Captain James T. Kirk - with a jagged scar on his left cheek - followed closely by Dr. Leonard McCoy, stepped out of the turbo-lift onto a very different bridge.

**Information on Sutter's Fort and John Sutter gleaned from wikipedia website**

**Description of Sutter's Fort from calgoldrush website**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Spock and Christine spent the afternoon tallying the crates of firearms and ammunition stacked at one end of the basement of the fort's central building. They talked little as they worked. Spock had asked her why there was such an abundance of weaponry and Christine had explained what she remembered learning about the Mexican-American war that had recently taken place. She had loved history almost as much as biology in school, and had taken several in-depth classes in college to learn more about the land of her birth.

As the light in the high basement windows was beginning to wane, a voice called to them from the stairs. "How's it going down here?" asked John Sutter.

"Good," replied Christine, standing and stretching her aching back. "We finished this wall and were discussing what to do next."

"You've done enough work for one day. Come and eat supper with me." Sutter beckoned them to follow him.

They entered the crowded dining room. It seemed Mr. Sutter's generosity extended to all those who worked for him, and meals were included in their pay. Sutter led them to the serving line where they each received a platter bearing a large steaming steak, a dollop of mashed potatoes, a bowl of pinto beans, and a slab of buttered bread. Spock eyed his plate with trepidation and stood stock-still.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Chapel?" Sutter asked, noting his hesitation. Christine inhaled sharply, familiar with Vulcan dietary restrictions. She waited to see what Spock would do.

"For some unknown reason, I am reluctant to consume animal flesh." Spock stated uncomfortably. He turned to look at the woman beside him. "Christine?" Thinking quickly, Christine described how the people of Spock's culture revered animals, cattle above all, and refused to eat meat.

"How very interesting." Sutter turned to the man on the other side of the counter. "William, would you please get Mr. Chapel a large bowl of beans?" The man nodded and walked away, returning moments later with a new, steak-free, plate for Spock.

"Thank you," Spock murmured, bowing his head slightly.

Sutter smiled widely and gestured to the people in the room. "Think nothing of it, my friend. We get all kinds of people here." _Not this kind, I'll bet_, thought Christine, following the two men to three empty seats at a large table.

Christine practically devoured her steak. It had been a long time since she'd eaten real meat, and a steak at that! As they ate, Sutter explained his aspirations for the fort and future of this part of the new California Territory. He told them of his efforts with fruit trees and sheep farming, and of his plans for building a sawmill to provide lumber for people migrating to the Pacific coast. Christine had been afraid he was going to ask them more about their past and where they came from, and she wasn't sure how many more lies she could make up. But fortunately, the man was content to tell his own story and respectful of the privacy of others.

Once the meal was finished, Sutter directed his guests to drop off their plates for washing and led them over to a man that seemed to be waiting for them. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Sutter?" the man asked.

"Yes, Bartholomew. These are my new friends, Mr. and Mrs. Chapel. They're staying in one of the guest houses. This morning they were robbed of all their possessions and are in need of a few things to get started again. Would you please take them to the store and give them whatever they need?

"Oh, yes, Sir, Mr. Sutter," the man replied eagerly. "Come with me folks, we'll get you all set up." Spock and Christine followed the man out and across the compound to the General Store, where he unlocked the doors and showed them in. "You folks just pick out what you need and I'll be right back." Bartholomew disappeared up the stairs in the back of the store.

Spock looked quizzically at Christine. "What is it we need?"

"Well, toiletries, mostly," she replied, looking around the store. "And a change of clothes would be nice." She pointed to the section marked 'Personal Items. "You go look for toothbrushes, and a hair brush and comb, and I'll check out the clothing."

Spock perused the shelves, looking for anything they might need. He found a hair brush and comb set easily enough, and the toothbrushes weren't too difficult to locate. He came across a display of bars of soap and picked up one and sniffed it. It smelled strongly of flowers and made his eyes water. He put it back and selected another that proved to have only a fresh, clean smell. He then rubbed his cheek with one hand and decided he also needed shaving supplies. But the options available only served to confuse him. There were long, curved blades with wooden handles, small cylindrical brushes, and tins marked 'Williams Shaving Soap.' He picked up one of each and hoped Christine could show him how to use them. He returned to the counter near the door, juggling the items in his arms. Christine met him there a moment later, carrying a stack of clothing. "I got us each a change of clothes and something to help you stay warm," she explained. "What did you find?"

The Vulcan showed her the items he had laid out on the counter. "I found the things you asked for, and a couple of others. But I was unable to find toothpaste."

Christine looked at him and smiled. "You remember toothpaste?" An uplifted eye brow told her he clearly did. "It may not have been invented yet. Let's go see what else we can find." Spock led her to the shelf where he had found the toothbrushes and she searched the items near-by. "Ah, here we go." She picked up a tin labeled 'Imperial Tooth Wash.' "This will work," she said, starting back for the counter as the store clerk returned.

"Find everything you need?" he asked. He retrieved a basket from under the counter and listed each item on a pad before placing it inside. "Gotta keep track of what goes where," he offered as he licked the end of his pencil.

"Believe me, I understand," empathized Christine.

Bartholomew placed the last item in the basked and pushed it toward her. "There ya go. You can bring the basked back next time you come in. Have a pleasant night and feel free to come get anything you forgot in the mornin'. G'night, now." This last was said as he ushered them out the door and locked it behind them.

They walked the short distance to their shared quarters and opened the door. Someone had come in and laid a fire in the hearth and lit a lamp on the opposite side of the room. Spock immediately moved to the fire and basked in its warmth. "You're cold, aren't you?" asked Christine. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I was becoming quite chilled, yes. But I was not aware of anything that could be done about it."

She removed a bright red item from the clothes she had gathered in the store. "Here, this should help" She unfolded and laid a peculiar garment out on the hearth. It had two arms and two legs and buttons up the front. "It's called a 'union suit1.' Let it warm up a bit, then take off your clothes and put this on. Tomorrow you can wear it under you clothes and you'll be warm all day." She returned to the basket of clothes and toiletries and started laying the things out.

"Christine," Spock started.

"Yes?" she said without looking at him.

"In truth, I am not your husband, am I?"

She stopped what she was doing, but still didn't turn his way. "No, you're not. How did you figure that out?"

"You hesitated each time you said the word. And I sensed your… apprehension when Mr. Sutter referred to me as 'Mr. Chapel.' I am also aware of a great deal of anxiety emanating from you at the present time."

Christine inhaled deeply and let her breath out slowly. Finally, she turned around and faced the man she'd spent the last five days with. "You're right, Spock. It's all a lie. I had to tell them you're my husband because it just isn't proper in this time for an unrelated man and woman to be travelling together. And I could hardly pass you off as a close relative, since we look nothing alike. As for my anxiety," she paused, "like it or not, you and I are trapped here, four hundred years in the past, and frankly, I'm terrified. I don't have any idea how we got here; I don't know the correct things to say and do; and I'm afraid I'll say the wrong thing and give us away. On top of that, you - the one person in entire the universe that can think his way out of anything - had to go and lose your memory." The words came out fast, and now she was near tears. Spock didn't know what to do, but human instinct took over and he stepped closer and tried to draw her into his arms. She pushed him away. "Don't touch me, Spock!" she cried as she turned away from him. He could feel her panic rising. "I can't control my emotions right now, and I don't want to hurt you with them."

Spock dropped his arms at his sides. "I am sorry, Christine. Perhaps, if you told me the truth, it would restore my memory."

She sniffed and nodded. "Alright. Sit down and I'll tell you everything." Spock moved the room's only chair closer to the fire for her before seating himself on the low hearth.

oooooOOOOOooooo

The first thing Kirk noticed upon entering the bridge of this timeline's _Enterprise_ was the complete absence of the nervous energy, the anticipation, the sense of 'what are we going to discover today?' There was no joy, no camaraderie, no cheerful chorus of 'Good morning, Captain' that even Spock had learned to join in on, when he wasn't following Kirk out of the turbo-lift.

No, this _Enterprise_ was a warship. This crew was serious about their jobs. Not that _his_ crew wasn't - they just did everything with excitement and a sense of contentment; grateful that they were allowed to participate in the grand adventure that was space travel.

The second thing he noticed was the Command Chair, or rather, the three command chairs, the center one being slightly larger and a shade darker than the other two. At that moment the boson standing beside the turbo-lift announced "Captain on the Bridge." McCoy winced and put a hand to his left ear, the one boson had just bellowed into. He favored the man with a do-you-mind? look.

Commander McHenry rose smoothly from the center chair and turned to nod at his Captain, then sat in the empty chair to the right. Kirk stepped down and circled around to the center chair and was taken aback as he realized the man on the left was Montgomery Scott. He was thinner and looked far older than the Scotty he knew; and it was no wonder if they were constantly at war with the Klingons. The work load this Chief Engineer must have! "Report, Mr. McHenry," Kirk snapped as he sat down.

"All crew members present and accounted for, Sir." The First Officer replied. "We have disengaged all moorings and the Dock Master has cleared us for departure. Awaiting your orders, Sir."

"Fine. Helmsman, set course for sector 31972," Kirk ordered in a firm voice.

The helmsman turned slightly to look at her Captain. "Sir, sector 3197 is in Klingon territory."

"I'm aware of that Lieutenant Ramirez." Actually he wasn't aware of it at all, but he didn't want her, or anyone else, to know that. His eyes met hers, eye brows arched, challenging her to further question his orders. He saw her eyes flick briefly to his right as she sought the First Officer's approval. Then she turned back to her station and entered the new heading.

"Sector 3197, course plotted and laid in, Sir."

"Execute, warp factor six," the Captain instructed, leaning back in his chair. The ship leaped into warp drive and he heard a sigh from his left. Commander Scot was clearly worried about the strain on the engines, but wisely kept any complaints to himself as he swung a console around to his view and began monitoring the ship's functions.

The Captain felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Dr. McCoy leaning over him. "I'll be in Sickbay if you need me, Jim," the CMO said softly. He squeezed the shoulder reassuringly before leaving the bridge.

Kirk gazed around the room at this new crew, rehearsing each of their names and ranks in his head. He had not gone back to sleep the night before, after the doctor left his quarters. Rather he had done his homework. He had memorized each of the faces of the people he would be working with and some of their backgrounds, their strengths and weaknesses. He had also studied the history that was recorded in this ship's library. Specifically the history of the Klingon Empire. In what had been the early twenty-first century on Earth, the Klingons had purchased technology from a race known as the Brathwana, and only ten years later had repaid their benefactors by wiping them out. Next, the Klingons conquered the Ferengi and the Orions. Then they set their sights on the Romulan Empire. After a long, bloody war, the Klingons defeated the Romulans, enslaving them to build more ships and weapons. For sixty or so years, the Klingons seemed content. Then in the late twenty-second century, they began advancing toward Earth, destroying or enslaving those who got in their way. One such race was the Vulcans, known as the peace-keepers of the galaxy. The Vulcans surrendered to the Klingons with barely a fight and the Klingons took great delight in murdering them one by one, then razing the planet so no one could ever inhabit it again. How could the Federation, which was now made up of mainly humans and Andorians, ever hope to defeat them in this great war? Was there even a chance? Kirk sighed and swallowed hard as all this replayed in his mind.

"Sir, are you okay?" McHenry asked quietly, watching his Captain closely.

Kirk glanced sideways at his First Officer. "I need some air," he said, matching the man's volume. He rose from the chair. In a louder voice, he said, "Mr. McHenry, you have the bridge. I'll be in my office." With that, he entered the turbo-lift. When the doors closed, he slid down the wall and held his head in his hands. He was suddenly struck with homesickness and despair. If the Guardian was in the hands of the Klingons…No! It couldn't be. He remembered that Scotty and Uhura and two security guards had been with him and Spock on the planet and had been affected by what McCoy had done to change history. Therefore the scientists stationed on the planet in his timeline would still be there as well. The Guardian could take care of itself and the planet. It had called him, and somehow he would get to it and make everything right again. He had to. All of history depended on him. He stood and straightened his uniform and ordered the lift to take him to deck five.

oooooOOOOOooooo

McCoy entered his office and plopped down in his desk chair. He flicked the computer screen on and entered his personal code. While the machine checked for messages, he opened his bottom file drawer and pulled out the bottle of bourbon he found there. _At least that hasn't changed_, he thought, filling a glass and taking a swig.

His door opened and an imposing woman in a lab coat leaned on the jamb, arms crossed. "It's a little early, isn't it?"

"Not when your clock's as messed up as mine is," he replied, downing the rest of the brown liquid.

"So, you're the CMO on this tub? You as difficult to work for as people say?" she asked, clearly not intimidated by his crusty, country doctor demeanor.

"Depends on who you ask," he replied. "And who might you be?"

"Catherine Churchill, your new assistant. I just came on-board." She stepped forward to shake his hand. McCoy shuddered at the similarity of her name to his own favorite assistant. He let her think his reaction was from the alcohol, and accepted the proffered greeting. He refilled his glass and lifted the bottle toward her. "Care for a snort?"

"No thanks. Never touch the stuff. Makes me crazy." She had gone back to leaning on the door jamb.

McCoy wasn't sure if he was going to like this woman or not, but what did it matter? If Jim managed to get them to the Guardian, and they succeeded in fixing the timeline and finding Spock and Christine, then he would only have to endure her for a couple days. He could handle that, couldn't he? He drained the glass and put the bottle away. "Come on, I'll show you around," he said, standing.

**1. Williams Shaving Soap and Imperial Tooth Wash were sold in America in the 1840's. So were union suits. I looked them up on Wikipedia!**

**2. I totally made up sector 3197 as the location of the Guardian planet. I checked the data available on Memory Alpha, and it says no location was ever given. I figured Kirk**

** knew exactly where it was after their first visit.**

...


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, okay, I get the message. Sorry for the wait. Enjoy, and keep those reviews coming!**

**Chapter 8**

Christine sat down in the upholstered chair facing the fire and Spock. She contemplated what she should tell him, knowing from a medical stand-point it was better to let an amnesiac regain his memory on his own. But there wasn't time. If they were going to get back to their own century, she needed Spock whole. She leaned down and unlaced and removed her shoes, then tucked her feet under her. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily before she began.

"First, there's the part about your being a Vulcan. Come closer Spock. Look very carefully at my eyes, my ears, my skin color." Spock rose slowly and crouched before her, confused, but doing as she asked. When an eyebrow quirked at her, she instructed, "Now go and look at yourself in the mirror."

He stood and walked the short distance across the room to the small mirror atop the chest of drawers. He gazed at his reflection, turning from side to side. He reached up and traced the point of one ear with his forefinger. His eyebrows rose in surprise and he spent a moment moving them up and down, marveling at the sharp angle they made rather than the graceful arch of Christine's. Next he peered closely at his cheeks and nose, and finally his eyes. The tiny blood vessels he could see appeared green. He looked over his shoulder at Christine, his brows bunched. "I do not understand." He studied his face a few seconds longer, then resumed his seat across from her.

"As I said, you're a Vulcan," Christine began explaining. "You're from the planet Vulcan. I'm from Earth, where we are now."

"Four hundred years in the past," Spock put in.

"Yes, four hundred years in the past," she repeated. She took another deep breath, choosing her words carefully. "We serve together on a star ship. We're primarily space explorers. You're a scientist, specializing in astrophysics and computers, and I'm a medical doctor." She decided to leave out the details, hoping Spock's computer-like mind would eventually fill in the gaps.

"So, we are acquainted with each other." Interestingly, he didn't question the idea of a star ship or space travel.

"Acquainted, yes. And, recently we have become friends." _Though that wasn't always the case_, she added to herself. "We were surveying a planet when we were kidnapped by Klingons."

"Klingons?"

Christine frowned. How to explain Klingons? "There are many races in the galaxy, many planets, with whom we're allied. The Klingons are _not_ one of them."

The dark eyebrows rose again. "Then they are our enemies?"

"Yes, though we do have a treaty with them. There's very little actual fighting, but we sometimes disagree over territories. I think that's why they took us. They wanted the planet we were on. But I don't know how we ended up here. I didn't think the Klingons even knew time travel was possible."

"But obviously it is, because we are here," he stated. "Is it possible that the Klingons are here also, and intend to somehow disrupt the natural time line?"

"It's possible. But, why? What would they stand to gain by changing Earth's history?"

It was Spock's turn to sigh as he considered her question. "Logically, the betterment of their own history," he concluded.

Christine nodded, then beamed, "See there, you don't remember who you are, but you still think like a Vulcan."

Spock cocked his head and peered at her. "One thing I do not understand; if I am of a different race and from another planet, why do we speak the same language? I understand how we would utilize a common language on this star ship you speak of, but if I am suffering a loss of memory, how am I able to communicate with the people of this planet's past?

"That's a good question, Spock. I suppose it's because, as a child, you learned Standard English simultaneously with Vulcan, since your mother is from Earth and your father is the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth."

Both eyebrows shot up, dark eyes went wide. "I am a half-breed?" he asked, astonished.

"We think of it more as a hybrid," Christine clarified. "Physically, you appear Vulcan. And internally you're mostly Vulcan, with a few human features. But getting back to the language thing – _can_ you speak Vulcan?"

"Can you?"

"No, actually I can't. At least not very well. Humans are incapable of speaking Vulcan properly. But I do know a few words. Do you know what _ko-mekh_ means?"

Spock tested the word, thought, and then replied, "_Ko-mehk_ is 'mother.' And _sa-mekh _means 'father.'"

Christine smiled and nodded. "That's right. Do you remember anything else?"

"_Mene sakkhet ur-seveh,_" Spock uttered. "It means 'Live long and prosper' I believe."

"That's right. It does. Now see if you can translate this into Vulcan: The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."

Spock translated the sentence into Vulcan, then asked in English, "How is it you know this, Christine? This is one of the…, one of the…, I cannot remember." His brow furrowed. "For a moment I knew, but now…"

"It's okay, Spock. You've been teaching me about Vulcan culture. It's one of the tenets of Surak."

The Vulcan appeared puzzled. "Surak," he repeated. "Who, or what, is Surak?"

"Surak is the founder of the modern Vulcan way of life," Christine explained. "Spock, How is it you can speak Vulcan, but don't know anything about them?

Spock shook his head. "Unknown."

Christine huffed loudly. "I've worked with amnesiacs before, Spock. They all react differently to learning the truth about themselves, but you seem to accept it readily. Why is that?"

"Again, unknown. But I know that what you have told me is truth, and not some clever prevarication."

"_How_ do you know, Spock?"

Spock thought about that a moment. "I sense from you…truthfulness. Also trepidation concerning our predicament, concern for my well-being, and a fair amount of…affection." Christine pressed her lips together, and couldn't quite meet his eyes. Misinterpreting her expression, he asked, "Is this normal?"

"Yes. Yes, it's perfectly normal for you. It's part of being a Vulcan. Y'know, Spock, I'm beginning to think you haven't lost your memory at all. It's just been selectively erased, or blocked somehow."

"How is that possible?"

"I don't know. It certainly wasn't done by a Klingon. I would think it could only be done by another Vulcan."

"Another Vulcan," Spock echoed half to himself. The words _v'tash ka'tur_ flashed through his mind, but he couldn't remember what it referred to. "Did we encounter another Vulcan during the time we were being held captive?" he asked his companion.

"I never saw one, but we weren't always together. And I can't imagine a Vulcan being on a Klingon ship. Not willingly, anyway."

Spock gave her a stern expression. "Christine, what happened while we were on that Klingon ship?"

Christine looked away, hesitating before answering him. "I don't want to say right now, Spock. It's better if you remember on your own, and I've given you enough to think about for now." He held her gaze for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "Besides, I think it's time we went to bed," she continued. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

"Which leads us to another problem," Spock said, rising to his feet.

"What's that?" she asked also standing and pushing the chair back into place.

"There is only one bed. Since we are not husband and wife, we cannot …"

Christine cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Spock, we're both adults, and Star Fleet officers. I see no reason why we can't share a bed for one night."

"It would not be proper. I shall sleep on the floor."

"No, you will not!" Christine countered. "It'll be too cold for you. I'll sleep on the floor."

"Christine, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to sleep on the floor. You will take the bed."

"Spock, let's be reasonable about this… logical, if you will." In the end, they decided to share the bed with each of them wrapped in a separate quilt.

After a trip to the outhouse and the well, Christine showed Spock how to use the tooth powder to clean his teeth. "How do you know this?" he asked as she dipped the toothbrush in a cup of water, then rubbed it across the cake of powder inside the tin.

Christine laughed lightly. "My grandfather was obsessed with learning about the old ways. He had old books and old-time photos of all kinds of things. He especially liked learning how people in early America did everyday things like taking care of personal hygiene and household chores. I loved hearing him tell about the way people used to do things."

"Then perhaps you can show me how to use these shaving things, also," he probed.

"Sure, I'd be happy to. That is, if you think you can trust me with a sharp blade in my hand," she added with a playful smile.

Spock's left brow rose and his eyes twinkled, returning the humor. "You indicated you are a medical doctor. I believe I can trust you not to permanently injure me."

Oral hygiene complete, Christine had Spock sit on a stool. She covered his chest and shoulders with a towel and proceeded to lather and shave his face. No injuries were incurred, and Spock slid his hand over his smooth cheek, nodding and smiling slightly in approval.

Next came the task of getting ready for bed. Christine took a long flannel gown from her stack of clothes, spread it on the bed, and began unbuttoning her dress. "What are you doing?" Spock asked, both brows rising in alarm.

"Spock, I'm not sleeping in my clothes. I'm going to put on this night gown."

Spock started for the door. "I will wait outside."

"That's not necessary. Just turn you back." He obediently faced the fireplace. He swallowed hard when he heard the rustle of her petticoat and tried to think of anything other than what was occurring behind him.

It wasn't long before he heard her blow out the lamp, followed by the sound of the bed creaking, and Christine saying, "Okay, I'm done, and not looking. It's your turn." Spock turned to see her wrapped in her quilt, facing away from him. He quickly undressed and slipped into the warm union suit Christine had laid by the fire. It felt delightful next to his skin. He laid his clothes out on the chair, pulled the other quilt around himself and lay down next to her. "Good night, Spock," Christine said softly.

"Good night, Christine," he returned.

oooooOOOOOooooo

_Enterprise_ encountered no trouble on her first day journeying toward the planet of the Guardian. But Captain James T. Kirk knew his luck would not hold out. He had spent that day studying this ships logs and battle maneuvers, and was confident he could handle any situation that came up. That is, until he read about the latest in Klingon ship technology – the swarm ship.

The Klingons admitted to having two of these fearsome monstrosities, named after their two most deadly hand weapons, _Mek'leth_ and _Bat'leth_. They were nearly a thousand meters long and cylindrical in shape, with four evenly spaced nacelles jutting out from mid-stern. Almost the entire outer hull was dotted with small, computer-controlled drone ships, each outfitted with a disruptor cannon. In battle, these drones detached from the main ship and 'swarmed' the enemy vessel, firing on all sides at one time. So far, Star Fleet had not developed a defensive weapon that could handle a swarm ship. The phase cannons could take out several drones at a time, but took too long to recharge. Only a direct hit to the main ship's communications array would halt the fighters in mid-space. This was how the Enterprise had recently defeated the _Mek-leth_ before limping to Star Base 12 for repairs.

The second day found the Captain sitting nervously on the bridge between his First Officer and his CMO. The seat on the left had been unoccupied when the Doctor came to visit, so he made himself comfortable. "Always wondered what it felt like to sit here," he had murmured to Kirk. Commander McHenry was busy at his console with duty rosters and reports, so Kirk conversed quietly with his friend on what he had learned about the Klingons.

"How do you suppose they managed to _buy_ all that technology?" the Doctor asked. "The Klingons were never what you'd call 'wealthy.'"

"It must have something to do with the way they changed history. Somehow that Klingon that took Spock and Chapel, went back in time and finagled his way into a fortune, then took it back to his home planet and waited for the opportunity to spend it."

"Maybe he sold them to the highest bidder."

"No, it had to be something he did on Earth. Something to change _Earth's_ history. Bones, did you know Star Fleet Academy is in Houston, Texas?"

"Huh? What happened to San Francisco?"

"I don't know. My service record says I graduated from Star Fleet Academy in Houston, Texas." He punctuated his words with his finger on the arm of his chair.

"Jim, I've seen your service record, it says San Francisco."

"Not anymore."

They were interrupted by Commander Uhura's voice as she called, "Captain, I'm picking up a distress signal from a Tellarite freighter. It's being attacked by a two Klingon ships."

"Two of them? Isn't that a little excessive, even for the Klingons?" Kirk quipped.

McHenry nodded in agreement. He leaned toward the center seat and whispered, "Sir, you don't even want to know what Klingons do to Tellarites."

Kirk frowned. He ordered, "Uhura, transfer coordinates of the freighter to helm control. Helm divert course and let's go see if we can help them."

Dr. McCoy rose. "I think I'm gonna be needed in Sickbay soon. I'd better go brush up on my Tellartie anatomy." Kirk gave him a good-natured half smile as he turned to go.

"Captain," called Science Officer Theliss. "I have the ships on sensors. The freighter is badly damaged, but the Klingons are making no further efforts."

Kirk looked up at the Andorian who was peering into his sensor scope. He was taken aback momentarily by the fact that the blue light didn't even register on the blue skin. He was so used to seeing Spock there, with that blue glow across his eyes. He suppressed a sigh. "Thank you Mr. Theliss. Keep an eye on them. Mr. McHenry, raise our shields, check all weapons."

McHenry checked his console and replied, "Shields at maximum, all weapons are online, Sir. Acquiring targets."

"I have them on visual, Sir," informed Lt. Ramirez. "Dropping out of warp." The main view screen flickered and changed to a view of a large, ungainly vessel, typical of Tellarite design. Flanking it were a pair of small ships that appeared to be mirror images of each other. Each ship resembled half a bird, with one flat side and one rounded side with a single 'wing' protruding from it. Each had its own weapons systems and seemed to operate independently.

"Well, those are new!" observed McHenry. Kirk shot him a glance, eyebrows quirked, as if asking for confirmation that the Commander had never seen ships like these before. McHenry shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Mr. McHenry," the Captain pondered aloud, "it would be impossible for those ships to achieve warp with only one nacelle each. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, Sir. I would."

Kirk extended both index fingers and brought his hands side by side as he said, "You don't suppose those two ships join together to make one warp-capable ship, do you." He saw understanding dawning in his First Officers eyes.

"Sir," Theliss interjected, "the ships register as _poS ghop _and _nlH ghop_."

"_Left hand_ and _Right hand_," McHenry translated. "I think you're right, Sir. I've never heard of such a thing, but… that's what it looks like. One ship travelling at warp speed, separates into two ships that can attack on two sides. Amazing!"

"Target the nearest ship, weapons system only" ordered Kirk. "Let's see what happens." McHenry checked his scanner, pressed a button, and a single beam of orange light shot out toward the nearest Klingon ship. The second ship dropped out of formation and turned to fire on _Enterprise,_ the blast absorbed by her shields. "Same thing on that one, Paul." Another beam shot out and the second ship stopped its advance. The first ship now turned to face _Enterprise_ aligning itself with the other ship. The entire bridge crew watched in astonishment as the space between the two ships narrowed, then disappeared. An instant later, the now joined ships turned as one and moved a safe distance away before fleeing at warp speed.

"Now that bears writing home about!" remarked Kirk. He turned to the Communications station. "Miss Uhura, please send a report to Star Fleet along with a tape of all this. Tell them Mr. McHenry and I will be glad to answer any questions they might have."

"Aye, Sir," she acknowledged, already pressing buttons on her console.

Kirk continued to give orders. "Mr. Theliss, scan the freighter for life signs and report your findings to Sickbay. Miss Ramirez, take us to within transporter range." He punched the comm button on his chair. "Kirk to Sickbay. Send a medical team to the transporter room, we'll beam the Tellarite casualties over here for treatment."

"Aye, aye, Captain. We're on our way," came McCoy's unmistakable voice.

"Uhura, get me the Tellarite ship."

The screen wavered and a the truculent face of a Tellarite appeared. "Ah, _Enterprise_, how nice of you come and rescue us," the commander said.

_Why did everything a Tellarite said sound like an insult?_ thought Kirk. "We came as soon as we picked up your distress call. We're prepared to beam your wounded over here for treatment. Is there anything we can do to help with repairs?

"Certainly. If I send you all my wounded, I won't have anybody left to repair my ship," the Tellarite commander said churlishly.

Turning to his First Officer, Kirk issued more orders. "Paul, you and Mr. Scott form a team of engineers. Go over there and see what you can do to get them on their way." Commander McHenry quickly exited the bridge.

"Thank you, Captain, we appreciate your generosity," offered the commander on the screen. Somehow, Kirk doubted his sincerity.

Six hours later, after repairs were completed, wounds were treated, and the freighter was pulling away from _Enterprise._ Kirk ordered the helm to resume course to Sector 3197.

Uhura interrupted the quiet moment on the bridge. "Captain, I've just received a report from Star Fleet Command. The U. S. S. Yorktown reports engaging with the Klingon ship _Bat'leth_ in this vicinity twelve hours ago. Kirk exhaled loudly. Just what they needed, another swarm ship.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Spock woke to dim light coming through the windows. The fire had gone out and the room had become chilly. He rose from the bed, quilt still wrapped tightly around his shoulders, and stirred the embers. Sparks came to life and he slowly added wood until the fire was blazing again. A loud pop from a burning log woke Christine. She turned to see Spock standing over the fire, quilt open to allow the heat to get at his body. "Would you mind sharing your fire with the rest of us, Spock?" she called.

He turned to peer at her over his shoulder. "And good morning to you, Christine," he said petulantly. He did lower his arms, and the quilt. Christine could feel the warm air filling the room.

She yawned and stretched. "Is it morning already?"

"The sun is just beginning to rise. Stay there and I will dress. Then I will go and wait for you in the dining hall," he instructed.

"Okay," she yawned again and rolled away from him.

After breakfast, Spock reported to the Blacksmith shop, where he spent the day assisting with the repair of various implements and tools. He manned the great bellows that provided air to the fire, and learned to swing the heavy striker's hammer. The blacksmith was quite impressed with his strength and the proficiency with which he learned to make some of the repairs himself.

Christine returned to her task of inventorying Sutter's warehouse. As she did, she considered what the man had told them over supper the evening before. Sutter had said, "One thing this land has in abundance is trees. That means lumber for building. I plan to build a saw mill not far from here, near a little place called Coloma. I'll make enough lumber to build a whole city. I'm going to call it Sutterville. Nice name, don't you agree?"

A saw mill, near Coloma – that triggered something in Christine's memory. She began linking ideas together. Coloma; Sutterville. No, that wasn't right. Sawmill; Coloma. No, nothing there. Sutter; sawmill. Yes! That was it! Sutter's Mill, the place were gold was discovered, prompting the California Gold Rush of 1849. The same grandfather that had enjoyed all things old, had told her the story of how his family had started out from Pennsylvania in early 1849, headed for California to get in on the Gold Rush. They had stopped in the Ohio River Valley when his great-great-great-great-grandfather had succumbed to an illness and never made it any further. She remembered him telling her that gold had been discovered in January of 1848 during the excavation of a water-way for the mill. And here it was, January of 1847. She also remembered her history lessons. In a little over a year, Sutter's Fort would be abandoned, the city of Sacramento would be booming, and Sutterville would never be built. She suddenly felt sorry for John Sutter, knowing his dream would come crashing down.

She met Spock for supper that evening and told him what she had remembered. His only response had been the question, "So why are we here, at this particular time in history?" Christine had no answer. And neither of them realized that history, as they knew it, would soon change.

oooooOOOOOooooo

When word of the new Klingon ship reached Star Fleet, the Admirals immediately wanted to know why _Enterprise_ was so far from where she was supposed to be. Kirk had simply ignored the first two messages, but knew he couldn't put them off any longer. He sat at his desk in his quarters and asked Uhura to patch the third call through. He had thought long and hard about what excuse he would give them, and now was the time. So he put on his best poker face and flicked the switch on the monitor.

Admiral Jackson's angry face came into view. "Captain Kirk, it's about time! You'd better have a mighty good reason for being so far off course, mister!"

"Yes, Sir, I do," Kirk started. "Sir, during our last battle, with the swarm ship _Mek'leth_, we acquired some information from a highly reliable source that the Klingons had developed another new type of ship. A ship that could separate into two parts, presenting an enemy ship with two targets instead of one. It was rumored that this ship was being tested in Tellarite space. So we, that is I, decided to investigate."

"None of this was mentioned in your report, Kirk," Admiral Jackson stated.

"No, Sir. I did not want to risk alerting the Klingons that we knew about their new design."

"So you took it on yourself to find out?" The Admiral scowled at him. "Good thinking, if a little presumptuous."

Kirk smiled at the backhanded compliment. "Thank you, Sir. And what are your orders, Sir, now that we're in this sector?"

"We have word that the _Bat'leth_ is in your area, so keep an eye on it. But stay away from it until reinforcements arrive. The _Yorktown_ has already engaged with it and sustained heavy damages. The _Lexington _and the _Fairchild_ will rendezvous with you in two days. Try to stay out of trouble till then, Kirk."

"Aye, Sir. I will. Anything else, Sir?"

Jackson scowled again and shook his head. "No, Captain, that's all for now. Star Fleet out." Kirk huffed in relief, glad that particular conversation was over. Now it was time to meet with his First Officer and decide just how they were going to get past the _Bat'leth_. For get past it they must do, as it was directly in their path to the Guardian. _So much for staying out of trouble_, thought Kirk.

Commander McHenry had filled in the gaps in Kirk's study of Klingon battle practices, specifically their use of swarm ships. Jim Kirk had no desire to see one of those in action, let alone get into a fire fight with one. "Too bad we don't have a cloaking device!" he lamented.

"We do have one, Sir." McHenry volunteered warily.

Kirk sat up straight in his chair and leveled his eyes on the man across the desk from him. "What! We have a cloaking device and you didn't tell me?"

"Well, Sir, I didn't think about it. We've had it for a while, and we've never used it. We're not even sure it still works."

"Where did it come from," asked Kirk, still in shock over the discovery.

"Um…you bought it from an escaped Romulan slave in a space bar somewhere near the Horsehead Nebula, Sir," came McHenry's somewhat sheepish reply.

"I bought it from an escaped Romulan slave," Kirk repeated, incredulous.

"Yes, Sir. For quite a few credits, if I remember correctly, Sir."

"I bought a cloaking device from an escaped Romulan slave. In a space bar," the Captain mumbled to himself. "Do I want to know why?" he asked aloud.

McHenry looked into his superior's eyes before answering. "Probably not, Sir."

Kirk nodded, wondering about the details, but deciding he really didn't need to know. "So pull it out of storage, tell Mr. Scott to install it, and let's see if it works," he ordered.

"Aye, aye, Captain." McHenry saluted and left the office.

Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had vehemently protested attaching the piece of alien technology to his precious _bairns_, but with a word from the Captain himself, he had acquiesced. Much to McHenry's protestations, the Captain had then ordered Lt. Ramirez to take him out in a shuttle to observe the results. Once the device was engaged, there was no trace of _Enterprise_ either through the shuttle's window, or on its scanners. Kirk grinned wickedly at the results, confident for once that they just might make it.

The final morning of _Enterprise's_ journey to the Guardian began with a violent shudder causing her captain to tumble out of bed and wake with a start. He scrambled to his feet and punched the comm button by his bed. "Kirk to Bridge, report!"

He recognized the voice that came back as Lt. Harrison, gamma shift commander. "Sir, we're close to the coordinates you set last night. We've hit a pocket of some kind of energy. Our scanners are having trouble identifying it right now."

"Full stop," ordered the Captain. "I'll be right up. Kirk out." He hit the button again and had the computer call Dr. McCoy while he grabbed a uniform from his closet.

"What'd we hit?" was the Doctor's response.

Kirk explained while pulling on his pants. "We hit a ripple in time, Bones."

"What? A ripple in time? What's that supposed to mean."

Kirk was pulling on his shirt and waited until his head was through the neck before replying. "It means, we're here. We made it to the Guardian."

McCoy could hear the triumph in his Captain's voice. "Well, hallelujah!"

"Meet me on the bridge as soon as you can,." He pulled on his boots.

"Right. I'll bring the cordrazine."

Kirk stood in front of his mirror, and brushed his hair into place. "Let's hope we don't need it this time. Kirk out." He strode out the door and took the turbo-lift to the bridge.

The previous day, they had encountered the dreaded swarm ship. With the help of their procured cloaking device, they spent the better part of the day creeping cautiously by the behemoth, well within her scanner range, but utterly invisible. It was only as they were about to go into warp drive, and disengaged the device, that the _Bat'leth_ began to fire on them. Captain Kirk ordered warp nine and they narrowly escaped the destructive beam. If the swarm ship decided to follow them, a ship that size would be a while in changing her course and _Enterprise_ would be well away. Once they were a safe distance away, and nearing sector 3197, Kirk entered the exact coordinates into the helm console himself.

Lt. Harrison vacated the center chair as Kirk stepped down into the command well. Ramirez, Theliss and McHenry stepped out of the turbo-lift and took their stations as Kirk assumed his seat. "Mr. Harrison, for the benefit of those who've just joined us, give me a full report."

"Aye, Sir," Harrison said, and proceeded to describe the events of gamma shift, ending with the collision with the unknown pocket of energy, and Kirk's order of full stop.

"Thank you, Mr. Harrison, that will be all. Gamma shift dismissed," the Captain ordered. Harrison and his crew exited the bridge as the rest of alpha shift took their places.

It took Science Officer Theliss nearly twenty minutes to identify the energy pocket as a time distortion. He reported that the area between them and the planet was strewn with such pockets. Kirk ordered the ship forward at one-quarter impulse. It took Theliss and Lt. Ramirez another half hour to determine how to identify and avoid the affected areas. By then, Dr. McCoy was sitting impatiently beside the Captain. McHenry wondered why they were surrounded by these time ripples, but assumed this version of Captain Kirk knew what he was doing.

When they finally reached the planet, Kirk ordered standard orbit and announced that he and the Doctor were beaming down. McHenry accompanied them to the transported room. When Kirk issued phasers and communicators only to the Doctor and himself, the First Officer protested. "I'm beaming down with you, Sir."

"No, Paul," Kirk admonished. "I can't allow that."

"But, Sir, regulations state…"

"No, Paul."

"Then at least take a security contingent."

Kirk put his hands on his subordinate's shoulders and explained, "Paul, only those affected by the transfer can set foot on the planet. Your captain will be returned to you shortly. It's your job to hold the ship, and the crew, together until he contacts you."

McHenry sighed and gave in. "Yes, Sir." He clasped Kirk's elbows and offered, "Good luck, Sir, on getting back to your own universe, and finding your First Officer."

"Thank you, Paul." Kirk let go and stepped onto the transporter pad. McCoy scooped up the medical bag he had prepared for their trip and joined him.

"Jim, you can't keep lyin' to the kid," the Doctor whispered.

Kirk replied in kind, "With any luck, that's the last one, Bones. Energize," he directed to the transporter technician. The next thing he and McCoy saw was the crumpled ruins of a once great civilization surrounding a Federation issue pre-fab building. A man in a science lab coat stepped through the door and spotted them.

"Who are…It's you!" the scientist called. He turned and shouted back inside the building, "Stafford, get out here, quick. Captain Kirk is here!"

The second man that came out of the structure was considerably older that the first, dressed in a tattered gray sweater and carrying a data padd. He studied their guests a moment, then consulted his padd, punching buttons and scrolling data. Satisfied at the results, he approached the pair, extending his hand to Kirk. "Captain Kirk, you have no idea how glad we are to see you. And you must be Doctor McCoy," he continued, releasing Kirk's hand and taking the doctor's. "I'm Doctor Alex Stafford, Federation Historian, and chief of the Guardian Project." He indicated the man who had seen them first. "And this is my assistant, Doctor Tim Highfield." Stafford looked around, then asked, "Where is the third member of your party, Captain," he consulted his padd again, then looked back up at them, "Mr. Spock?"

Kirk had to smile at the man's brusque, but efficient manner. "Mr. Spock is not with us. We believe he may be stranded somewhere in Earth's past. We intend to find him, and an associate, when we go to set the timeline straight."

Stafford looked pensive. "How do you know about the timeline, Captain?"

Kirk glanced at McCoy before answering. "The Guardian…contacted me. Through a dream."

"Fascinating," Stafford uttered, pulling out a stylus and making notes on his padd. "Absolutely fascinating."

Dr. Highfield had remained silent until now. "So you plan on entering the time portal, Captain. What will you do, once you are in the past?"

"Whatever I have to do to return history to its…its rightful version. Do you have any idea how the timeline has been affected?"

"No, we don't," replied Highfield. "The Guardian won't respond to anything we ask it. It just keeps showing an image of you, Doctor McCoy and Mr. Spock, and repeating over and over that history has been altered and only you can fix it."

"So that's why you were so glad to see us!" McCoy piped in.

Stafford consulted his padd as he spoke. "Yes, Doctor. We attempted to contact you, through Federation channels, but it seems our communications equipment is malfunctioning. We can't even raise the support ship that's in orbit."

"There's nothing wrong with your equipment, Doctor Stafford," Kirk replied. "There _is_ no support ship in orbit, and the Federation has probably never heard of you. Let's go talk to the Guardian and see if we can get some answers." He led the way and the others followed in his wake.

Arriving at the site of the time portal, the _Enterprise_ officers were amazed at the view within its opening. There they were – Kirk, Spock and McCoy – looking as they did when they stepped out of the portal eight years ago.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Kirk strode two steps toward the portal and took a firm stance. With as much authority as he possessed, he addressed the rock. "Guardian, I am Captain James T. Kirk. Why have you summoned me here?"

The image faded until those who faced it clearly saw the ruins on the other side. The mist roiled around the rock, and as its internal lights began to flash, it spoke. "Captain Kirk, history has been altered! Only you can repair it! Come to me and I will guide you! You must hurry, Captain Kirk, the timeline must be made right."

"Yes, Guardian. I will make the timeline right again. What planets have been affected by the altered timeline?"

The deep voice answered enigmatically, "Many planets have been affected. Many which once were are no more. Many beings who should be never were and many who are should not be. Which planet do you seek?"

"Earth," stated Kirk, "I seek the history of Earth, the third planet in the Sol system. Will you show me?" Kirk glanced back at Highfield, who aimed a recording device at the portal just as the mists parted and scenes from Earth's history flashed by faster than the eye could perceive them. When the last image cleared, Kirk turned to the elder historian. "Doctor Stafford, I assume you have a previous recording of Earth's history. Is there any way we can compare it to the one we just made?"

Highfield took the recording disc from the machine and handed it to Stafford. The historian replied, "Oh, yes, Captain. We can run them simultaneously and let the computer find the exact point of the differentiation."

The _Enterprise_ officers sat in relative comfort in the research team's small dining room, sipping coffee and munching on homemade cookies. In another room, the team was busy pouring over the historical data. Nearly three hours had passed since they had confronted the Guardian. Finally, Dr. Highfield entered the room and beckoned them to follow him. They were taken to a conference room set up with a large viewscreen on the far wall. Seated at the table were Dr. Stafford and a beautiful blonde woman with the most amazing green eyes. Kirk couldn't help but smile charmingly in her direction.

"Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, if you would." Stafford gestured to the empty chairs, then to the woman next to him. "May I introduce my wife, Britta. She's a journalistic archeologist." Kirk's smile dimmed somewhat at the word 'wife.'

"A what?" asked McCoy.

Britta smiled. "Fancy title, isn't it? It means I study old newspapers."

Stafford smiled fondly at his wife, "It was discovered early on that the Guardian employs the use of newspapers in its historical record keeping; a great deal of information in a relatively small space. That's why Britta and I were assigned to this facility,"

His wife added, "Every page of every newspaper ever written is in these archives."

"Really?" McCoy queried. Kirk only sighed as he remembered a newspaper photo of Edith Keeler with the caption 'Local Humanitarian Dies in Traffic Accident.'

"Now then," the journalistic archeologist started, "we programmed the computer to compare the two tapes and flag any discrepancies in major historical events. Then we worked backward to find the causes leading up to the event to see how history has been altered. And this is what we came up with." She pressed a button on the console in front of her. "Tim, would you get the lights?"

Highfield did as she asked, and a pair of images appeared on the viewscreen. She began to describe them. "The article on the right is from the _New York Times_ and describes the driving of the 'Golden Spike,' the last spike driven at the completion of the First Transcontinental Railroad, Promontory Summit, Utah, on May 10, 1869. This is the history that we remember. The image on the left is from the same newspaper, on the same day, in this altered version of history." It was a story about how two ships had collided in New York Harbor.

Britta continued, "Now, the two ships actually did collide, but the article appeared on page two of the newspaper1. The point is, the completion of the First Transcontinental Railroad is _not_ on the front page, meaning, it never happened." She paused to let that sink in. "So now we have a key reference point, and we can look at events leading up to this point. The reason for building the Transcontinental Railroad in the first place was the influx of people traveling west over a twenty year span, mainly because of the California Gold Rush of 1849. This led to the development of cities along the trail. History now shows that many of these cities developed much later, and some of them never existed at all. It seems there was no mad rush to California in the mid nineteenth century. So we focused on the Gold Rush itself, and here's what we found."

Another pair of newspaper images appeared on the screen. This time it was from the _Boston Herald_. The one on the right bore the headline:

GOLD DISCOVERED IN CALIFORNIA

The one on the left read:

BOSTON MAYOR OPENS NEW PARK

"So, concluded Britta, "by following the logic of our earlier example, the Gold Rush never happened."

"What do you know about the Gold Rush?" asked Kirk.

Stafford consulted his ever-present padd and began, "History tells us that gold was discovered by James Marshall on January 24, 1848, at the site of Sutter's Mill, near the town of Coloma, California. Marshall was a friend of John Sutter, and construction foreman for the sawmill that Sutter financed."

His wife took over. "We did find one reference to James Marshall in the newspapers of the current timeline." Another newspaper appeared on the left side of the screen:

SUTTER EMPIRE CRUMBLES AFTER DISAPPEARANCE

OF BUSINESS PARTNER JAMES MARSHALL.

Kirk and McCoy read the article, which described how Marshall had disappeared shortly after receiving a large amount of money to purchase supplies and equipment for the new mill. Also missing were the construction plans and the surveys of the proposed area.

The Captain considered this information, then asked "When was this?"

"The paper is dated July 17, 1847," Stafford answered. "Captain, history records that James Marshall returned to his ranch in the Sacramento Valley in early 1847, after participating in the Mexican-American war. He found his cattle had vanished, sending him into financial ruin. He went to Sutter for help and was given the job of constructing the mill."

"So, sometime during those six months he disappeared," Kirk commented. "And the gold?"

Britta answered this time. "We found an article from 2158 that described experiments that were being conducted on new sensor technology in the Sacramento Valley. The scientists found numerous pockets and connecting 'veins' in the bedrock. The pockets were empty, but held residual traces of gold. They said it was as if the rock had been full of gold that had been sucked out about three centuries earlier2.

"That sounds like modern mining technology!" Kirk interjected.

"Yes," she continued. "The question is, how did twenty-third century mining technology get to the nineteenth century?"

McCoy gasped, "The Klingons! The Klingons went back in time and used modern mining equipment to remove the gold. That's how they financed their new empire!"

"I think you're right, Bones. Then they got rid of Marshall because he knew where the mill was being constructed."

"But _how_ did they go back in time, Captain?" Stafford asked. "I can assure you they didn't go through the portal!

"There are other ways to travel through time, Doctor Stafford," said Kirk dispassionately. "And Spock knows just how to do it," he added in a whisper meant for Dr. McCoy's ears only.

"The slingshot! Jim, I can't believe Spock would willing show them how to do that!"

"Not willingly, Bones. We are talking about the _Klingons_ here."

"Oh, Lord. I hope he's still alive."

"So do I Bones. So do I."

Stafford considered the pair of officers. "What do you propose to do, Captain?'

Kirk exhaled loudly through his nose, but remained quiet, his eyes rolled up and blinking rapidly while he strategized. Finally, he spoke, "Doctor McCoy and I will go through the portal to 'early' 1947 and find this James Marshall. We'll keep an eye on him and see if we can catch ourselves a Klingon. So, where can we find him?"

The padd once again provided the answers. "The best place to start would be Sutter's Fort, located at the junction of the Sacramento and American Rivers," Stafford replied. "My team will outfit you and provide you with cover stories."

oooooOOOOOooooo

Spock and Christine's days began to run together as they took their meals in the fort's dining hall, slept side by side in the same bed, and worked long hours for Mr. Sutter. They had paid off their debt to him and were now residing in one of the small one-room houses outside the fort. In order to maintain their story of being husband and wife, they elected to continue living the way they had in the fort's guest quarters. By now, two weeks after their arrival, they were used to the arrangement. Spock continued to work at the blacksmith shop or in the vast fruit orchards, while Christine, having finished Sutter's inventory, helped out wherever she was needed – working in the kitchen preparing meals, helping customers at the General Store, or assisting Sutter with his correspondence.

Today she was working in the General Store, sweeping floors and dusting shelves. She barely noticed as two strange men, dressed in buckskins, walked in and began talking to Bartholomew. "Christine!" he called, and she set aside her broom and hurried to the counter.

"_Christine_!" both the visitors cried upon seeing her.

She stood flabbergasted, staring at them. When she found her voice again, she squeaked out, "Len! Cap…Jim! What are you doing here?" Kirk shot her a look that clearly said, _Later_.

The clerk gaped at her. "Christine, do you know these gentlemen?"

"Yes, Sir. They're old friends." She smiled, still staring at the newcomers, and still not believing her eyes.

"Christine, go get Mister Sutter, and tell him we have visitors," Bartholomew ordered.

She faltered a moment, then acknowledged him and ran out the door and across the compound. She returned a few minutes later with a white-haired man that looked as though he owned the place. Kirk and McCoy soon found out that he did.

"Welcome gentlemen, I'm John Sutter." He shook hands with both of them, as he took in their attire. "You men appear to be trappers. Are those your pelts stacked outside?"

Jim Kirk assumed his friendly smile and stance. "Yes, Sir, we are. We'd like to trade them for room and board for a few days."

"Absolutely, my good man," Sutter smiled magnanimously at them, then frowned. "Ah, but my guest rooms are full at the moment."

Christine broke in, "Sir, the house next to our is vacant, they could stay there."

"Of course, Mrs. Chapel. Why didn't I think of that? That's why I keep you around, my dear. Will you please show these gentlemen to their quarters and help them get settled? I'll see you all at suppertime." And with that, he turned and exited the store. Christine beckon her two superior officers to follow her.

"_Mrs. _Chapel?" inquired McCoy as they passed through the doors.

"It's a long story," she replied turning toward the main gate.

McCoy peppered her with questions. "How'd you get here? How long have you been here? Why is that Sutter fella so taken with you?"

"Hold it," Kirk ordered. Both turned automatically to look at him. "First question; is Spock here?"

"Yes, Captain, he's here," Christine answered. "He's working in the orchards today and will be in at sundown. And I'm sorry for the disrespect back there, Sir. Calling you Captain would have created problems."

Kirk, smiled, both relieved that Spock was present, and amused at her apology. "That's all right, Christine. You have my permission to be disrespectful until we get out of this mess."

McCoy asked what Jim didn't, "Is Spock okay?"

"He's fine," replied Christine. "Mostly."

"Mostly!" exclaimed the Doctor. "What do you mean by 'mostly'?"

A man walked by them at that moment and stopped, tipping his hat to Christine. "Hello, Mrs. Chapel. It's good to see you, again," he said.

"Hello, Mr. Archer," she returned. "How are Jennifer and Suzanne?"

"Oh, they're fine. I left 'em at home this trip. Jennifer's expectin' again, so she didn't feel like travellin'. I'll tell 'em you asked after 'em."

"You do that, Mr. Archer. Bye now."

"Bye, Ma'am. Say 'hello' to yer husband for me!"

Kirk and McCoy had stood by, dumbfounded, during the exchange. "What was that all about? What husband?" McCoy asked once the man entered the General Store.

Christine started walking again. "Come on, I'll explain it all when we get to the house." She led them out the main gate and down a small lane between box-like houses. "We live here," she said as they passed the third house on the left. She stopped at the next house and opened the door. "This one's yours."

Kirk exercised his Captain's authority and entered first, while McCoy played the gentleman and let Christine enter ahead of him. He took in the cabin's interior in a quick glance. "You say you and Spock live in one of these?" he asked. He smiled suggestively at his Sickbay assistant. "With only one bed?"

Christine closed her eyes and made a sound of resignation. "Yes Leonard, we do. Because we have to. Everyone here thinks we're married, because that's what I told them, starting with that man I talked to at the store. He's the one who found us and brought us here." She sat down on the bed and told them everything – about the Klingon ship, Spock's beatings and memory loss, their waking up outside the fort, and their two weeks of living under Sutter's authority. She also explained her theory regarding Spock's memory being wiped.

"And you say he doesn't remember anything?" asked Kirk.

"No, Sir. I told him a lot of it. But he doesn't remember. The strange thing is, he's still Spock; cool, logical, and even a vegetarian. He still acts like Spock and talks like Spock, he can even speak Vulcan. I don't understand it." She sighed wearily.

McCoy sat next to her and slid an arm around her shoulder. "Did you tell him about what happened on the Klingon ship?" he asked.

Christine leaned heavily on his shoulder, suddenly very tired. "No. I didn't want to cause him any trauma. I thought it would be better if he remembered for himself."

McCoy pulled her tighter. "You did the right thing," he encouraged.

"Oh, I need to get back to work," Christine realized, jumping up. "Bartholomew's probably wondering what happened to me." She headed for the door, then turned back. "You can tell both of us your side over dinner. Spock won't understand a bit of it, but he'll be 'fascinated' to hear it. Meet us at the main building at sunset." Then she was gone.

Kirk paced the small room. "To quote one of Spock's favorite sayings, 'Curiouser and curiouser.'"

"You got that right, Jim," McCoy agreed.

oooooOOOOOooooo

James Marshall stopped at a stream to let his horse and pack mule drink. It had been a long, weary journey. He patted the horse's neck affectionately. "Not much further, Cabby, and we'll be home." The Mexican he had purchase the horse from a week ago had referred to it only as _el caballo_. Marshall had shortened it to Cabby. The horse finished drinking and raised its head, water dripping from its muzzle. Marshall pressed his heels into its side. The mule gave a snort of protest as her rope was pulled taut by the moving horse, but she obediently followed her master out of the stream and along the trail.

When they reached the top of the butte, Marshall gazed down on his beloved home. He'd been gone a long time, fighting in the war for independence and helping Captain Fremont set up the government for the future state of California. Now he was looking forward to resuming work on his ranch. But as he took in the sight below, he realized all was not right. His cattle, his sole source of income, were missing.3

**1. The ships colliding in the harbor is made up. But it could have happened.**

**2. I promise, I never even thought about the movie "Cowboys and Aliens" when I came up with this idea! If you haven't seen it, do. It's great!**

**3. Wikipedia strikes again!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: The good news is, here's another chapter. The bad news is, my posting has caught up with my writing. Chapter 9 has only about 150 words so far. I'll do my best!**

**Thanks for all the reviews and follows. I'm impressed and please that you like my work.**

**Chapter 8**

Frustrated by the slowness, James Marshall urged his horse down the steep, rocky slope toward his ranch. He let the mule pick her own way down, being the surer-footed animal of the two, and Cabby followed as best he could. When they reached the creek at the bottom, Marshall plunged across it and made a gallop for the hacienda.

As he neared his home, Marshall was struck by the stillness. There was no one here. The five men and two women that worked for him should have received his message by now and been ready for his arrival. He dismounted and led his horse and mule into the empty barn. He walked to the double doors at the other end and opened them, expecting to see a half-dozen horses and a couple of donkeys in the attached corral. But the corral, too, was empty. "Where is everybody?" he asked out loud. He returned to the mule and began removing her burdens, catching himself looking over his shoulder every few minutes. After relieving Cabby of his saddle and rubbing him down, he headed for the house.

Again, the silence struck him. He opened the door and stuck his head in. "Hello?" he called. When no answer came, he pushed the door the rest of the way and strode into the main room. The leather chair behind his desk swiveled around to reveal the most unusual man Marshall had ever seen.

"Welcome home, Mister Marshall," the man said. "We've been waiting for you." The man smiled mirthlessly as four men stepped out of adjacent rooms with some sort of weapons pointed at the new arrival. Marshall gaped at these men. They wore some sort of leather and metal armor; all had long black hair and various cut of beards; and they all had vertical ridges on their foreheads. At a gesture from the man at the desk they all lowered their weapons. Two of them circle around behind Marshall, cutting him off from the door.

"Who are you?" he cried. What _are you?_ his mind added. "What are you doing in my house?"

The man rose from the desk, his malicious smile still in place. He sauntered toward Marshall, stopping two feet in front of him. Marshall noted that he was not as big as the other men, but he was clearly in charge. "Mr. Marshall, I'm a business man, and I'm here to make you a proposition."

Marshall tried to reign in his fear and his anger. "What have you done with my servants?" he demanded. "And my cattle?"

The self-proclaimed 'business man' turned and leaned a hip on the desk. "Your servants… were of no use to me. And as for your animals, though not as tasty as _targ_, they did satisfy my men's bellies."

Marshall was outraged. "YOU ATE THEM? There was nearly a thousand head of cattle out there!"

"Relax, Mr. Marshall. We didn't eat _all_ of them," returned the man, managing to look chagrined. "We used some of them for target practice." He laughed, the agreement of his men adding to the raucous sound. "The rest we drove off into the hills. Once you've told me what I want to know, you can – what is the phrase your people use? – round them up."

"What is it you want?"

"All right, let's see if we can do this the easy way. Tell me where the gold is!"

"Gold!" replied Marshall. "I don't know anything about any gold."

The man smirked at him, then turned to one of his underlings. "Bring it," he ordered. The armed man disappeared into one of the rooms and returned with an odd-looking black contraption. Marshall had never seen anything like it. It appeared to be a type of hat with tubes sticking out of it attached to a small box with buttons on it. Two of the men behind Marshall grabbed him while the third one brought a chair closer. The men forced Marshall into the chair and proceeded to put the contraption on his head. Having no idea what is was, or what it would do, Marshall fought very little. Until the one who held the box flipped a switch and a buzzing started in Marshall's head. He screamed in agony. "Keep it on the lowest setting, Maltz," his captor instructed. "We don't want to kill him."

The one called Maltz kept his eyes fixed on the box. After a few moments he shifted his gaze to his superior and said something. The leader waved his hand and the man flipped the switch again and the buzzing stopped. Marshall slumped in the chair, breathing hard. "What… was…that?" he managed to get out.

The strange business-man walked away, hands clasped behind his back. Suddenly he spun around, his face contorted with frustration. "What year is it, human?" he snapped.

Marshall stared at him, confused, still trying to catch his breath. "What _year_? It's 1846. No! It's 1847. January, 1847."

The man roared with rage and spit out words that Marshall had never heard before. They weren't English or Spanish, but some strange, guttural language. He finally stopped ranting and came nose to nose with one of the guards. "Bring me Turek," he ground out between clenched teeth. "That _ptok_ put us down in the wrong year!" The guard ran from the room, presumably to fetch someone called Turek.

The leader continued to seethe, and another of the guards asked, "What shall we do with the prisoner, my Lord?"

"I don't care," snapped the shorter man, impatiently. "Let him go. He can't tell us anything." Marshall didn't have to be told twice. He simply bolted for the door and didn't stop running until he reached the safety of the boulders on the steep trail he had recently come down.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Kirk and McCoy spent the afternoon resting, one napping on the bed, the other in the arm chair by the fire. Both were worried about Spock, but knew there was little they could do for him. Jim Kirk also considered how they were to repair the time line. First they had to find out where the break was. Was it going to happen in the near future or had it already happened? How would they recognize it? How could they stop it from happening? These questions were still unanswered when the sun began to sink into the west.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Spock threw the last tree branch onto the waiting wagon and hollered at the driver to move out. Another wagon approached and a worker he knew as Lazlow reached out a hand to him. "Come, friend Spock," the man said in his stilted English. "Sun is setting and it is time to go home." The Vulcan took the proffered hand and leapt onto the back of the wagon, finding a seat among the other workers. A water skin was passed around and Spock took a long drink.

At the river, the wagon stopped and the workers hopped down to wash their hands and faces in the cold water. One by one they turned and walked toward the settlement, some stopping at their homes, others entering the fort. Spock was one of the latter. He knew Christine would be waiting for him outside the main building, and he found himself looking forward to seeing her.

He spotted her just as he entered the gate. She was talking with two men who had their backs to him. She was smiling and laughing, and Spock felt a surge of jealousy. He lengthened his stride and reached her before she even noticed him. "Christine," he said, sternly. The two men turned to face him and his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he looked from face to face. "Jim! Doctor McCoy!" The smile on his face rivaled the one he had displayed when he discovered he hadn't killed his Captain on the sands of Vulcan, before he quickly brought his emotions under control.

Jim Kirk was the first to speak. "Spock, you remember!"

Again Spock's eyebrows rose. "Yes. Yes I do. I remember everything." He looked again at the faces of his three companions before settling on McCoy. "I even remember every illogical conversation I have had with you, Doctor."

McCoy punched him lightly in the shoulder. "Aw, geez, Spock, you big, pointy-eared lug. I missed you, too!" He was rewarded with the trademark raised eyebrow.

"How did the two of you arrive here," the Vulcan asked, looking back at his Captain.

Jim Kirk rubbed his hands together. "Let's talk about it over dinner. I'm starved!"

Over bowls of steaming beef stew – lentils for Spock – Kirk explained what he knew about the altered timeline, and how they had arrived at the fort. McCoy interrupted frequently, putting his two credits in where needed.

"So what's the last thing you remember, Spock?" asked the Doctor, over dessert of apple tarts.

Spock searched his memory. "We were on the surface of Xeron Beta III. The anthropologists were observing the indigenous tribe. Doctor Chapel was scanning the native plants and beckoned me to come to her. Then, nothing until we found ourselves in the wilderness a few miles from this establishment."

Kirk sought clarification. "So you remember everything that took place since you've been here? Just not what happened in between. Not how you got here."

"Correct," replied Spock. "Doctor Chapel informed me that we were abducted by Klingons and held on their ship for several days, but I remember nothing of that. I can only assume I was the victim of a mind-sifter."

"You were," verified Christine. "Several times, in fact. You were also beaten severely."

Spock looked at her with his head slightly tilted to one side, his dark eyes bored into her. "Why did you not tell me this before?"

"It wouldn't have done you any good, and it would have only added to the trauma of losing your memory."

"She's right, Spock," put in McCoy. "You needed to remember it on your own, like you did earlier, remembering us."

The Vulcan's dark eyes now settled on the CMO. "But I do _not_ remember, Doctor."

"You will. You only need the right trigger."

John Sutter chose that moment to approach their table. He rested his hands on the backs of Kirk's and McCoy's chairs. "Gentleman, I trust you enjoyed our humble fare, and your accommodations are suitable." Kirk assumed his most charismatic demeanor and thanked the man profusely for his hospitality. Then the four of them made their way back to Spock and Christine's house, where they talked for several hours.

When Christine yawned for the third time, Kirk finally took the hint. "Well, Bones, I think we've kept these two up long enough. We've all had a long day and it's time to get some sleep."

"What? Oh, yeah, sleep. Right." The Doctor grinned cheekily at his nurse. She glared at him in return.

Spock asked, "Captain, what are your plans for tomorrow?

"I think for now, you and Christine should maintain your cover and keep working for Sutter. Bones and I will nose around and see what we can find out. Get some sleep, and we'll talk again tomorrow." With that, Kirk and McCoy exited, leaving Spock staring awkwardly at the room's single bed.

"What's wrong, Spock?"

"Doctor Chapel, I hardly think it would be appropriate for us to continue…"

"To what? To continue sharing a bed? Fine! Sleep wherever you want." She turned away and began unbuttoning her top, very much wanting him to leave.

"I sense that you are upset, Doctor. If there is anything…"

She spun to face him, her half-buttoned blouse revealing a good deal more skin than usual. Spock quickly averted his eyes. "Stop _sensing_ me, Spock! And what's with the 'Doctor Chapel' all of a sudden. You've been calling me 'Christine' for three weeks. Even on the Enterprise you called me 'Christine' when we were alone. Now, just because you have your memory back it's 'Doctor Chapel' again!" Her voice rose in both volume and pitch with each sentence. Spock could see tears forming in her eyes.

"I am sorry, Christine. My mind is in a state of confusion at the moment. I require meditation to … sort things out again."

She dropped her face to her hands. "I'm sorry, Spock. I know this has been difficult for you."

He clasped her hands in his own, willing her to look at him. "And I know it has been difficult for you as well," he said softly. "I could not have survived here without your assistance." He tilted his head to one side, his eyes soft and pleading.

She pulled her hands free and turned back toward the bed. "I'm sorry. I'm just being an emotional female." He wanted to tell her she was beautiful when she was being emotional. He wanted to put his arms around her and comfort her. But he could not.

"Try to get some rest," was all he said. "I will meditate before retiring." He moved the armchair to face the fire and sat down. He closed his eyes, attempting to reach the first level of peace, but could not find it until he heard her breathing become deep and regular. She woke some time later to the movement of the bed as he lay down beside her.

The next day Christine was assisting Sutter with some correspondence when a haggard-looking man rushed into his office. Sutter stood suddenly. "James Marshall! When did you get back?" Christine started at the man's name.

"John, John, you have to help me!" The man was obviously distraught about something, but was reluctant to speak upon seeing his friend was not alone.

"Let's go downstairs and get some coffee," Sutter offered. Turning to Christine, he said, "If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Chapel. When you're finished here, you may see if they need help in the dining room."

"Yes, Sir."

As quickly as she could, Christine finished writing the letter she was working on and got it ready to post. Then she ran down the stairs, anxious to see where Sutter and Marshall went and wondering where Kirk and McCoy were currently. She was relieved to see both pairs of men seated at opposite ends of the dining room, sipping coffee. A few other men were scattered around the room as well. Christine entered the prep kitchen and picked up the coffee pot from the stove. "Hey, Myra," she called to the woman standing over the wash tub. "I'll go refill coffees for you."

She nonchalantly made her way toward the _Enterprise_ officers, refilling cups as she went. When she reached them, she leaned down to whisper excitedly in Kirk's ear. "Sir, that man with Mr. Sutter is James Marshall!"

Kirk smiled and said, "Thank you, Miss," raising his now full mug toward her.

As Christine made her way back to the kitchen, a young man entered the dining room at a near run. "Mr. Sutter, Sir," he called, "there is a gentleman here to see you. He says it's urgent!"

Sutter rose to his feet quickly. "Oh, my. James, will you excuse me while I tend to this crisis*?" He followed the young man toward the big double door. Stopping for a moment, he asked Kirk and McCoy, "Gentlemen, would mind keeping my friend James company while I'm gone?" They indicated that they would and, taking their coffee with them, made their way to the corner table.

The man they joined appeared more than a little frightened. He was dirty and disheveled, and looked like he hadn't slept. "Mr. Marshall," Kirk greeted with his usual smile, and an extended hand. "I'm James Kirk and this is my friend Leonard McCoy." Marshall shook both their hands and offered them a seat.

The Southern doctor looked the man over in a professional manner. "I can't help but notice you look a little anxious. Is there something we can do for you?"

Marshall shook his head, eyes wide. "Oh, I wish there was, gentlemen, I wish there was. You just wouldn't believe what I've been through." He shivered with horror.

"Try us," Kirk encouraged, with his most inviting smile. Marshall proceeded to tell them about the strange man and his companions who had driven off his cattle and put some kind of device on his head demanding to know where the gold was. It was a good thing Marshall's attention was on Kirk, because McCoy couldn't keep the outrage and shock from showing on his face. He'd had to bite his tongue not to shout curses at the audacity of it all.

When Marshall finished, Kirk asked, "Did this strange man by any chance wear a large ruby ring?"

"Yes, he did!"

"That's him, Bones. He's here. Mr. Marshall, could you possibly take us to your ranch?"

Marshall's fear doubled. He looked back and forth between his companions. "Do you know this man?"

"Yes," answered Kirk, "we do. We've been looking for him. We're… bounty hunters."

"Bounty hunters! Does that mean there's a price on his head?" asked Marshall.

"Yeah, a big one!" replied McCoy. "And we'll share it with you if you'll help us catch him." Now it was Kirk's turn to look outraged. Where were they going to get money to use as a reward for Marshall?

"I'll do it!" agreed Marshall. "Meet me out by the bridge in an hour. I'll bring the horses."

An hour later, the two starship officers strode through the front gate. They could see Marshall waiting on horseback, with two other mounts standing nearby.

"I don't know about this Jim," the Doctor lamented. "It's been ages since I rode a horse. I'm not sure my old bones can take it."

"Relax, Bones. It'll be fine. Besides, it's either that or walk, and it took Marshall all night to get here on foot." McCoy signed resignedly as they approached their new friend. They mounted the horses – Jim with practiced ease and Leonard with good, old-fashioned determination – and the three men started off at an easy pace across the bridge.

Kirk and McCoy were in awe of the beauty of nature around them, realizing they were in the middle of what would one day be the sprawling city of Sacramento. Marshall provided a running commentary of the sights, naming distant mountains, pointing out native flora and fauna. It took them nearly two hours to reach the butte that looked down on Marshall's ranch. They left the horses tied to a bush and made their way down the rocky slope on foot.

"Bones, did you bring your tricorder?" Kirk whispered.

"Of course," said the Doctor, patting the satchel hanging at his side.

"Stay here and see what you can find out. We'll see if we can get a little closer to the house." He urged their guide on, checking to make sure his phaser was in his coat pocket.

Moving around the end of the barn, Marshall stopped and held Kirk back. "There's a negro tied to a post out there." Kirk peered around the corner. The man's shirt was in tatters as if he'd been whipped. His head was hanging, and it appeared the only thing keeping him upright was the rope that secured him to the post.

The door of the house swung open and two men came out. Kirk inhaled sharply as they emerged into the sunlight. Klingons! He noted they were dressed in well-worn uniforms, and sported older model disruptors on their sides. They untied the man on the post and carried him callously into the house. For a second, Kirk thought he spotted a pointed ear on the side of the black man's head, but he couldn't be sure. He pushed Marshall back toward the slope. They picked up McCoy, remounted and returned to the fort.

*** The 'crisis' was the impending rescue of the Donner Party lost in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Yep, John Sutter was a big part of that! Look it up on Wikipedia!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I don't mean to drag this story on, but the little plot bunny keeps hopping in and I have to follow it and see where it goes. But the end is in sight! I'll try to ignore the little fuzzball.**

**Chapter 9**

Jim Kirk was beside himself riding back. He couldn't wait to get away from the talkative Marshall and hear his CMO's report. Finally they dismounted and Marshall led the horses away. Kirk and McCoy returned to their quarters, where they could confer in private.

"What'd you find, Bones?" asked the Captain, taking the chair while the Doctor flopped on the bed.

McCoy pulled the tricorder out of his bag and turned it on. "Well, there were twelve life signs in the house. Six were full-blooded Klingons and one registered as half-Klingon, half-Human."

Kirk instantly stood up. "Half-Human? Oh, boy." He paced the small room, considering the implications of that for a minute, then turned back to the Doctor. "What about the other five?"

"Human. They appeared to be below the house, maybe in a cellar of some sort." McCoy consulted the tricorder again before continuing. "I guess you saw the one tied up in the yard. Care to take a guess at what he was?"

"Vulcan," Kirk stated. At the Doctor's look of surprise, he added, "I thought I saw a pointed ear. Here's something I bet you don't know about him – he had dark skin."

"What! A dark-skinned Vulcan! I never heard of such a thing! I did notice that he was in bad shape. He'd lost a lot of blood and was pretty weak."

"He looked like he'd been beaten. Two Klingons came out and carried him into the house." He sat back down in the chair. "We need to go back out there with Spock and figure out what we can do." He rubbed his stomach as it growled noisily. "Is it dinner time yet? I'm starving."

"You're always starving. Though I have to admit, after all that riding, I could use some grub myself. That is, if I can convince my backside to sit on a wooden bench!"

They joined Spock and Christine for dinner just after sunset, and deliberately did not talk about their findings until they could meet in private. Then they shared everything they had seen and heard.

"You said there were five people in the cellar," began Christine. "Were they injured?"

McCoy checked the readings on the tricorder again. "I don't think so, but I can't tell for sure. There's some interference with all the rocks and dirt surrounding them."

"And one half-Klingon, half-Human," mused Spock, aloud. "That poses some interesting scenarios." The others agreed with him.

"But, you know, it does make sense," Christine added. "He didn't look like a full Klingon – more of a watered-down version."

"And get this," McCoy put in, "there was a dark-skinned Vulcan there. Jim saw him. I never heard of such a thing. What do know about 'em, Spock?"

Spock didn't seem to be paying attention. "Dark-skinned Vulcan," he murmured. "Turek," he nearly shouted, his eyes wide. He took in a sharp breath through his mouth, then groaned, his face contorted in horror. He dropped his head into his hands, his breath now coming in ragged gasps, his frame shaking. Christine moved to sit beside him, her hand on his back offering support. The Captain and the Doctor both knelt in front of their friend.

"Spock, what is it?" asked Jim.

"I remember everything," he said weakly. They watched as he recomposed himself, transforming back into the Vulcan officer they all knew. He swallowed and straightened himself before continuing. "While on board the Klingon ship, I was taken several times to a small room where I was strapped to a chair and they subjected me to the mind-sifter. But I was able to block their scans and they learned nothing from me. In their frustration, they beat me."

Christine interrupted, "They let me keep my med-kit and brought me water and a cloth to clean him up each time."

Spock resumed, "Finally, they took me to the office of the leader. He told me his name is K'lahD and that he is an entrepreneur. He demanded I tell him the secret of time-travel. I told him I knew of no such secret. He then threatened to kill…" he trailed off as he turned to look into the blue eyes beside him. "Christine, you are well. They did not kill you." She bit her lip and shook her head, her eyes welling up with tears. "I did not want them to kill you, but I knew I could not tell them about time-warp. I'm sorry, Christine." He reached up and wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek.

"It's all right, Spock. You couldn't tell them. And I'm fine. They didn't hurt me. They just gave me hypo of something to knock me out."

"Go on, Spock, Kirk encouraged.

He let his eyes roam over the room, then the faces of the men before him. "K'lahD called for Turek." The dark eyes closed and another shudder ran through his body. "The guards took me to the room and secured me to the chair. Then Turek entered my mind and ripped it apart. My attempts to fight him were useless. Their kind are known for their proficiency in the mind disciplines, but Turek had been tainted by the _v'tash ka'tur_."

"Vulcans without logic," Kirk breathed, understanding both the phrase and its significance.

"Yes, Jim. He searched my memories until he found what he wanted – the computations for time-warp." His shoulders slumped, as if telling the story had exhausted him.

Christine rose to get Spock a cup of water. McCoy shook his head. "No wonder you lost your memory. It was some kind of defense mechanism to block the trauma he caused you."

Kirk sat back in his chair. "That explains how you got here. Now, we just have to fix this and get us all back home."

"Captain, perhaps if you and the Doctor were to take me to Mr. Marshall's ranch, we could determine a way to convince K'lahD that his mission is foolhardy at best."

"No, Spock!" Christine clutched at his arm. "You can't let him see you. He'd just make Turek hurt you again."

"She's right, Spock," Kirk added. "We can't let K'lahD know we're on to him. It's too late to go tonight anyway. I'd never find the place in the dark."

Christine piped up "Captain, tomorrow is Sunday. Except for the kitchen and serving staff, no one will be working. We can go right after breakfast."

"You will stay here," Spock ordered, grasping her hand still on his arm. "Someone must cover for us, and Mr. Sutter will be expecting you at the religious service." Christine sighed and acquiesced.

Christine woke the next morning to find Spock's arm draped protectively over her. She squirmed until she was facing him. His eyes were still closed, his breathing slow and even. An idea sparked, and without a second thought she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. He came awake instantly, his eyes widening upon seeing her smiling at him. "I will stoke the fire," he said in a rough voice, throwing back his quilt and getting up. Christine giggled at the site of him – one of the buttons on the back flap of his red union suit had come undone and she had a wonderful view of half of his behind as he bent over the hearth. "What do you find so amusing this morning?" he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

Her face flushed as she tried to cover her mouth with her hands. Finally, she explained, "Your flap is open," and burst into another round of giggles.

Spock's eyebrow shot up and he reached around feeling for the opening, then deftly secured the offending button. Looking back at Christine, he had sudden urge to crawl back into bed and extract revenge for her giggles. He quickly suppressed it and opted for pulling on his trousers instead.

After breakfast the conversation turned to the plans for the day. "We'll need horses," stated Kirk. McCoy rolled his eyes in a 'not again' fashion. "I don't want to involve Sutter or Marshall in this if I can avoid it."

"There are horses available at the blacksmith shop," volunteered Spock. "We could procure three of them for the day."

"If by _procure_ you mean _steal_, Spock," inquired the Doctor, "how do you propose we get them out of the fort? Do we just ride right out?

"The horses are available for the residents of the fort, Doctor. It is not unusual to see men on horseback leaving through the main gate throughout the day. And since we plan to return them, we will not be stealing them."

"They're setting up for the church service," Christine pointed to the two men moving the pulpit at the far end of the dining hall. "You'd better get going. And be careful, all three of you. Medical care around here is very primitive."

The three men left her and made their way to the blacksmith shop. Kirk found a supply of tack and quickly picked out three even-tempered mounts. Being the only one with any horse sense, it fell to him to saddle and bridle all three. Spock had spent time at the Kirk farm in Iowa and made no complaints as he pulled himself astride the horse. McCoy made a show of struggling to mount his as Jim opened the corral to let them out. With that, the three starship officers left the fort at a slow trot. After crossing the bridge, Kirk urged his horse into a gallop and the others followed.

As they neared the valley surrounding Marshall's ranch, McCoy pulled out his tricorder and handed it to the Science Officer. "Here, Spock, you're better with this thing than I am." Spock chose not to comment, but accepted the instrument. He turned it on and did a wide sweep of the area.

"Captain, I'm picking up a large energy reading approximately eight hundred meters in that direction." He extended a long arm, finger pointing southwest.

"Let's go see what it is." Kirk urged his horse in the indicated direction. Their destination was a small, box canyon. Its entrance was mostly obscured by fallen rocks and sage brush, but inside they could see a yacht-like star ship, obviously of Klingon design.

"I believe that is the ship that Doctor Chapel and I were held on."

"But what's it doing here?" McCoy asked.

Kirk turned an up-raised eyebrow at both of them. "Marshall said K'lahD was angry because they were a here a year early…"

"…and they could not keep the ship in orbit for a year…" Spock continued.

"…so they landed it in this canyon," finished McCoy.

"Indeed," the other two answered in unison.

The tricorder gave a beep and Spock looked down to check it. "Klingons approaching, Captain," he announced. "I suggest we conceal ourselves." They rode back the way they had come and left the horses near some scrub pines, then made their way on foot to the mouth of the canyon. They watched as six Klingons approached pulling a large wagon.

They positioned the wagon near the ship just as a ramp descended from its belly, then all six disappeared up the ramp. After a few moments they returned, each carrying a large storage crate. These were stacked in the wagon. Then the Klingons took up position, three on each side of the wagon's tongue, and heaved it into motion. Groaning and complaining, they dragged their burden in the direction of the ranch. The trio retrieved their horses and followed discreetly.

When they reached the hacienda, the Klingons began unloading the wagon and taking the crates into the barn. K'lahD and Turek watched from the front porch. Kirk and McCoy could both feel Spock bristling as he observed the other Vulcan. When the unloading was completed, K'lahD shouted orders to his men and they begrudgingly turned the wagon around and headed back out for another load.

As the remaining off-worlders went back into the house, Kirk dug two communicators out of McCoy's bag and handed one to the Doctor. "Spock and I are going to have a look in the barn. You stay here and warn us if those two come back out." McCoy nodded, and the two officers set off at a crouched run.

Inside the barn they were amazed to see that the Klingons had been at their task for some time. Nearly half the space was filled with crates and pieces of machinery. Spock moved down one row of crates, scanning the labels with the tricorder for interpretation. He found only food rations, weapons and clothing. Kirk checked out the machinery and found spare engine parts and a dismantled replicator. He eyed three large boxes sitting off to one side. All three bore the same markings. "Spock!" he called softly. He silently indicated the label on the nearest box. Spock scanned it, checked the read-out, then handed his Captain the tricorder. Two words were displayed on the tiny screen: MINERAL EXTRACTOR. Kirk smiled his lop-sided smile. His communicator beeped twice, the signal from McCoy. "Let's go," he said, passing the tricorder back to his First Officer.

They exited through the back door of the barn and made their way back to McCoy. "What's up, Bones?" asked Kirk.

"Two more Klingons came out of the back of the house. They're investigating the outhouse." Raucous laughter came from the vicinity of the little wooden structure in question.

"I do not think they are impressed," was Spock's deduction.

"I thought you said there were only six!" Kirk accused his CMO.

"Well, now there's eight. These two must have been on the ship." They watched the two bemused Klingons saunter back to the house.

"What do we do now, Captain?" asked Spock.

Kirk took everything into consideration, before answering. "I'd like to give the Klingons the option of leaving the planet, but we have to destroy that extractor. We'll need to get some explosives of some sort. Dynamite maybe."

"Captain, dynamite will not be invented for another twenty years. I would suggest gunpowder."

McCoy harrumphed. "Spock, where are we gonna get enough gunpowder to blow up a barn?"

"On our first day here, Christine and I inventoried Mr. Sutter's storeroom. He has thirty-four barrels of the stuff."

"Spock, are you actually suggesting that we help ourselves to Sutter's supplies? I'm surprised at you."

"Under ordinary circumstances, Doctor, I would not even consider the possibility. But, you must agree, our circumstances are far from ordinary."

"You got that right! But gunpowder? Why don't we just use a phaser set on overload?"

Kirk answered. "It wouldn't produce the right kind of blast, Bones. I'd be too quick and leave too much residue. We need a nice, slow burn. Besides, we only have two phasers, and we'll probably need them before this is over. Let's get back to the fort." Kirk started up the rocky slope to the where they'd left the horses. "Oh, Spock, what about the people in the cellar?"

The Vulcan scanned the house with his tricorder. "They are still there, Captain. They appear to be in a weakened condition. I wonder if the Klingons know they are there. They could have simply hid in the cellar when K'lahD took possession of the house."

"That's a possibility. We'll just have to rescue them, won't we Bones!" The Doctor heartily agreed.

It was after lunch when they returned to the fort. Christine was waiting for them, sick with worry. "Well, what did you find?" she asked when they were all settled in their small house. They told her about the ship, the off-loading of supplies, and their plans for the extractor they found in the barn.

McCoy brought up a new subject. "Jim, did you notice their uniforms? They looked a little worn out and old-fashioned. Not that Klingons are at the height of fashion. But they just looked old.

"Christine and I noticed that on the ship as well," Spock voiced. "Their disruptors also seem to be older models. And they carry no daggers. They do not appear to be trained warriors, but rather hired guards."

"How many did you see on the ship?" the Captain asked.

Spock thought a moment, then answered. "No more than four. Others would have been occupied with ship's functions. I believe the eight we saw today would be the entire complement for a ship that size."

"I agree. I'll bet some of them are miners, too."

"That K'lahD fellow probably paid them to help him," added McCoy. "He might've even promised them a share of the gold."

"You're probably right, Bones." He turned to Christine. "Chris," started the Captain, one of only two men Christine would allow to call her that, "We need to get that gunpowder. We need you to distract Sutter somehow."

"No problem, Captain. There's a big party tonight to celebrate the wedding that took place after the service this morning. There will be lots of music and dancing and no one will even miss us."

"Us? Who said anything about 'us'?" asked McCoy. "You're staying here!"

"I'm going with you!" Christine argued. "Do any of you know how to handle a team of horses?"

"What do we need with a team of horses?" asked Kirk.

Christine glared at him in disbelief. "Do you plan to carry thirty-four barrels of gunpowder by hand?" The Captain had the good sense to look sheepish. "Bartholomew had me deliver supplies to some of the outlying residents," she explained. "He taught me how to drive a wagon. I'm a little vague on how to hook up the horses, but I'm sure you gentlemen can figure it out."

That night, John Sutter watched as Christine Chapel entered the transformed dining hall alone. He quickly made his way toward her. "Good evening, Mrs. Chapel. Where is your fine husband tonight?"

Christine blushed a little, still perturbed by the mention of Spock as her husband. "He's not one for dancing. And the loud music bothers him. But he insisted I come for a little while."

"Then you shall dance with me." With that he whisked her off, twirling and sidestepping. Christine struggled to follow his movements, but quickly got the hang of the dance. As the party progressed, she thought about what was going on outside. Spock and Leonard would be loading the gunpowder onto one of the large wagons parked behind the main building. The Captain would be bringing the horses over and getting them hitched. The plan was for Spock to enter and find her dancing with Sutter. In a fit of jealousy he would demand that Christine come back home with him immediately.

The loading complete and the horses hitched, Spock entered the main building. He paused at the double doors to the dining hall and searched for Christine. He saw her talking with some other women and John Sutter approaching. Sutter bowed slightly to the ladies and said something to Christine, making her laugh. She accepted his hand and he led her out on the floor. A slow waltz began to play and the couple began swaying to the one-two-three beat. Spock admitted to himself that he would not have to pretend to be jealous. Summoning a small amount of anger from deep within, he charged into the room. Half way across he caught Christine's eyes. They immediately brightened and the corners of her mouth turned up. And Spock changed his mind. He let the anger drop and stepped up behind Sutter. Tapping the man on the shoulder, he said, "May I?" Sutter stepped aside to let his partner dance with her 'husband.' Christine hesitated a moment, then smiled and took his hand to finish the dance.

"They're waiting for us," she reminded him.

"Let them wait," he replied, sweeping her across the floor.

**A/N: One more chapter should do it. There will also be a short epilogue.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This is it. The final chapter. Thank you all so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites. It really means a lot. This was hard work, but oh, so much fun! Rest assured, I am already interviewing plot bunnies for future stories.**

**Chapter 10**

Christine shook the reins and clucked her tongue at the horses. The wagon lurched forward as they adjusted to the weight. Leonard McCoy sat on the bench beside her, Kirk and Spock were mounted and rode alongside. They were questioned at the gate and she quickly explained that more soldiers were expected at the Mormon Camp* tonight and extra supplies had been requested.

They clattered over the bridge and drove slowly toward James Marshall's ranch, guided by Spock's extraordinary memory and night vision. They all felt the need to hurry, but their volatile cargo made caution necessary. On the way, Christine considered the dance she had shared with Spock. Never in her wildest dreams – well, maybe in the really wild ones – never would she have imagined Spock willingly dancing with her. She thought back to the morning and the feeling of his arm wrapped around her. And the night before, when he showed his concern over her riding out with them. She thought she had gotten over being in love with him, but now she wasn't sure. Was he beginning to feel something for her? It seemed the last two weeks had changed his mind-set about her. And here they were, riding out to reset the time-line so they could get back to the _Enterprise_ and resume their normal lives. Normal. That meant no more special attention from Spock.

They arrived at the hacienda around midnight. Both the house and the barn were dark. McCoy searched the vicinity with the tricorder. "They're all asleep in the house," he whispered. "No, wait, Turek's in the outhouse." Chapel pulled the wagon to a stop near the back of the barn. The three men unloaded the gunpowder while she kept the horses quiet. After the last barrel had been taken into the barn, she took the wagon and the mounts to a safe location.

Kirk, Spock and McCoy arranged the gunpowder kegs around the three extractor crates and attached the end of the spool of fuse to the one nearest the door. Walking slowly backward, Spock unrolled the spool as they made their way to where Christine was hidden, then connected the cord to the detonator.

In the meantime, Turek had finished his business and exited the outhouse. Seeing movement behind the barn, he headed in that direction to investigate, just as Kirk depressed the plunger.

A series of explosions rocked the valley and the barn ignited in a ball of fire. Eight Klingons, in various states of dress, spilled out of the house followed by one angry half-Klingon in an embroidered bathrobe. K'lahD was shouting in a combination of Klingon and Standard English. "What the _(Klingon expletive)_ is going on out here? Who is responsible for this?"

"We are," announced Kirk, standing between Spock and McCoy a few yards away from the angry man.

K'lahD could clearly see two phasers pointed at him. He peered at Kirk then Spock, and his eyes widened. "Commander Spock?" He turned to one of his men. "I thought you killed him!"

The Klingon shook his head and said, shamefaced, "I couldn't do it. We transported them to the surface instead."

K'lahD shouted several incomprehensible words in the man's face. The other Klingons looked away. It was then that the _Enterprise_ officers noticed only one of the guards had thought to bring his disruptor out with him. Their suspicion that these men were not warriors was confirmed.

The now red-faced leader stomped furiously toward the one holding the weapon loosely at his side. He grabbed for the disruptor and in a confusing burst of movement and light the weapon discharged while pointed directly at K'lahD. His scream hung in the air a moment after his molecules disintegrated. Kirk and Spock focused their attention on the group and the Klingon immediately dropped the weapon in the dirt. "We will not harm you," he said in a gravelly voice, bowing his head in surrender.

"Captain!" Christine called from what had been the back of the barn. "Over here!" The three officers ran to her, followed by most of the Klingons. Lying in the dirt was Turek, a long piece of metal pinning him to the ground. A pool of green blood surrounded him. McCoy quickly scanned him and looked up at his Captain with a shake of his head.

The dying Vulcan's eyes opened and met Spock's. "Spock," he called weakly. He raised his hand in a tired Vulcan salute and whispered, "_Ni'droi'ik nar-tor._" His hand dropped, his eyes closed, and his breathing ceased.

"What did he say?" asked Kirk, looking directly at Spock.

"'_I'm sorry.'_"

They all stood a moment in silence. Then the Klingon who had spoken earlier asked, "What will you do with us, Captain?"

"Well, I can't let you stay here and continue to contaminate the time-line. And if I help you get home, you'll be tried as criminals; which means life imprisonment in the Federation…"

"Or execution in the Empire," finished the Klingon. The whine of a phaser discharge interrupted the discussion. Jim Kirk turned to find his First Officer with his weapon still pointing to the charred ground where Turek's body had lain. He waited for his friend's eyes to meet his.

"We could not risk his body being found," Spock stated quietly. Kirk nodded his agreement.

The Klingon Kirk had been speaking with took a moment to confer with his comrades, then spoke, "Captain, if you will allow us, we will take our ship and leave this planet. We will return to Klingon space and search for a place where we can live out our lives."

Kirk offered a smile of relief. "I think that's a wonderful idea. And I think you'd better do it quickly. I'm sure somebody heard that explosion and saw the smoke. They'll be riding out here to investigate soon." The Klingon nodded and gathered his men. They all went into the house to retrieve the rest of their gear. The _Enterprise_ officers used their phasers to eliminate any critical remains of the explosion and gathered up any supplies for the Klingons to take with them.

The sky was just beginning to brighten when the Klingons were ready to depart. Kirk sent them on their way, then he and McCoy entered the house. They opened the cellar door and released the five people that had been trapped there. McCoy checked them over as best he could without using his scanner. "Gracias, Señores," said one of the men. "We saw the banditos coming and we hid in the cellar. Eduardo and Hector stayed to fight them, but…"

"It's all right, now," offered Kirk. "You'll find a wagon outside. Take it and get everyone to the fort. You'll find Mr. Marshall there." After the household servants were gone, Spock and Christine came in.

"Captain, we must leave," said Spock. "Several men on horseback are approaching at a rapid pace."

Kirk looked around at the modest ranch house. "Right. We can ride double for a ways, then walk and let the horses rest. Let's go."

Outside, Kirk and Spock pulled themselves into their saddles. Kirk helped McCoy up behind him. The Doctor put his arms loosely around his Captain. "Well, this is embarrassing," he mused. He watched as Spock easily lifted Christine up and helped her to get comfortable, pulling her arms firmly around his waist. Christine smiled and clasped her hands together, leaning on his back. They rode off as fast as the horses would run. Within minutes of their departure, John Sutter, James Marshall, and several other men arrived to find the still-smoldering ruins of the barn.

Arriving at the fort, Kirk instructed his officers to gather anything they wanted to keep from their quarters and meet him outside the back wall in twenty minutes. Christine gathered what little supplies they had and left most of it outside the neighbor's house, keeping only her flannel night gown and the tortoise shell hairbrush. Spock kept only a knife he had made in the blacksmith's shop.

At the fort's back wall, Captain Kirk found the marker he had left. "Guardian!" he called, facing the wall. "We've completed our task. The time-line is restored." A flickering point of light appeared on the wall and rapidly expanded, until it resembled a large view screen. The image of roiling mist appeared and the wall round the image began to glow. As the only one who had never witnessed this phenomenon, Christine was amazed by the process. She could see ancient ruins through the mist and feel the hot wind blowing in her face. "On three!" she heard Kirk shout. Spock took her hand, and on three they walked into the wall and out onto the dry, dusty plain of the Time Planet.

Dr. Stafford stepped forward to greet them, his wife and Dr. Highfield right behind him. "Welcome back, Captain. I see you found your friends. I take it you were successful."

"I believe we were. We'll soon find out." He pulled out his communicator and flipped it open. "Kirk to _Enterprise_."

"_Enterprise_. Scott here," came the reply. "Cap'n? I don't remember ye beamin' doon, but the ship's scanners show six Humans and a Vulcan at your location. I don't even remember how we got here. Is'na this the planet we were at when Doctor McCoy…"

"Yes, Scotty, it is. I'll explain it to you later. Stand by to beam up four." He closed the communicator and extended a hand to the historian. "Doctor Stafford, I want to thank you and your people for all your help."

Oh, thank _you_!" Stafford gushed. We just did the research, you're the ones who risked your lives." As Stafford shook the Captain's hand the glowing circle of the Guardian caught his eye. Kirk noticed the shift in his focus and turned to see what was happening.

The mist began rolling again as the stones flashed. "Captain Kirk," it began speaking, "Thanks to you and your associates the time-line has been restored. What once was will be again. My gratitude for your services." The lights flashed around the opening and the mist parted. "One piece of history is available." A newspaper came into focus within the mist. The headline read: THREE MEN DEAD IN RAILROAD CONSTRUCTION BLAST. Everyone present scanned the story. It told about an explosion during the construction of the Transcontinental Railroad and how two men had tried to save another and all had died. One of the men listed was named Terrence McHenry. Kirk and McCoy looked at each other and nodded in understanding. The Captain opened his communicator again and the other three officers took up positions around him, ready for transport.

As always, Kirk was the first to step off the pad. He whirled on his companions. "Showers for everybody," he ordered, then pointed at Spock and Christine. "You two are off duty for forty-eight hours. Eat, sleep, do whatever you need to get reconnected with the twenty-third century."

McCoy interjected before they could leave, "But first, I want everyone in Sickbay. I don't even want to think about what kinda little critters we picked up back there."

Two days later, Captain Kirk sat peascfully in his command chair watching the stars streak by on the view screen. The lift doors opened and Doctors McCoy and Chapel stepped out. McCoy stepped down to stand at his friend's left as Science Officer Spock came to the Captain's right. Christine leaned against the console beside Lt. Uhura, who turned to speak. "Captain, I'm picking up a message from the Klingon Empire. It seems the Emperor's brand new private yacht is missing. They're actually offering a reward for its return."

The Captain turned toward the Doctor with his lop-sided smile in place. "Well, Bones, should we go back and find their ship for them?"

McCoy smirked and answered, "Not for all the gold in California!"

The bridge of the _Enterprise _rang with Kirk's laughter, McCoy's guffaws and Christine's giggles. Even Spock chuckled. Almost.

**THE END**

*** If you've read the information about Sutter's Fort and Mill, you should know about the Mormon Camp by now. If not, you know where to find it!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This part rated M for possible you-know-what. Entirely S/Ch interaction. If you don't like that kind of stuff, then don't read it. It really has nothing to do with the story, just a little aftermath. The plot bunny looked at me with those big, sad eyes and begged me to write this.**

Epilogue

It had been a week since their return from nineteenth century California Territory. Christine was sitting alone in the officer's mess, eating a late lunch, when she heard a familiar voice. "May I join you?"

She smiled up at him and pushed out the chair beside her with her foot. "Sure, Spock. It's been a while since we shared a meal."

"Indeed. As I recall, we shared more than meals during our time on Earth." She giggled, her ocean-blue eyes crinkling.

They ate in silence for a time. Spock blew out a barely perceptible breath before speaking again. "My bed has been cold."

A myriad of emotions ran through Christine's head, not the least of which was shock. She glanced sideways at her companion to ascertain his seriousness. He was looking straight at her, one eyebrow slightly raised, as if in challenge. "Mine, too," she said quietly.

More silence followed, then he spoke again. "We could remedy that situation."

Christine decided to take the bull by the horns. "What time shall I be at your quarters tonight?"

"21:30 hours would be acceptable." Not even a hint of humor appeared in his dark eyes.

"Shall I bring an extra quilt?"

"That will not be necessary."

The comm panel beeped. "Doctor Chapel, report to Sickbay. Doctor Chapel, please report to Sickbay immediately."

She downed the rest of her tea and stood to go. "Duty calls, Spock. I'll see you at 21:30."

"Christine," he said as she picked up her tray, "do not wear the flannel nightgown."

"Then what shall I wear?"

"You may wear whatever you like." This time there was something in his eyes, but it wasn't humor.

**Sorry, the rest is up to your imagination!**


End file.
